We Are More, Together
by ForForever19
Summary: Ten years after Rachel leaves Lima in search of stardom, she returns home to face the aftermath of the unwitting destruction she left behind. Future AU in 6 Parts. Faberry.
1. Sometimes, I Wonder

**Disclaimer** : I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **AN** : For the sake of this story, let's just pretend it's really difficult to get medical test results back in a timely fashion in sleepy towns such as Lima, Ohio.

* * *

 **Part One**

 **Sometimes, I Wonder**

* * *

One of Hiram Berry's favourite things in the world is Quinn Fabray's smile.

He doesn't see it often but, when he does, it makes his breath hitch immediately, and he's forced to stop _everything_ for those few moments and take it in. The thing is that Quinn doesn't smile for nothing - not since he's known her, at least - but it's dazzling enough for the world to halt and take notice.

Like, right now.

Hiram's hand is still on the doorknob, his smile matching Quinn's as she stands on the Berry doorstep, all bundled up for the cold. Her nose is pink and her cheeks are flushed, with her long eyelashes dusted with the falling snow. She looks so… young, and it's refreshing. She's practically _bouncing_ as she stands there, an odd hint of mischief in her eyes. It's the way he imagines she was as a child, pure and innocent and saved from the harshness of this terrible, horrible world.

"Well, are you going to invite me inside?" Quinn asks, running her hands along her coat-covered arms. "I kind of have a surprise for you."

Hiram's face lights up that bit more, and he forgets that she has her own key to the house. "You do?"

Quinn takes a small step back and reaches to her left with her hand. Hiram just watches with wide eyes as Quinn tugs lightly, and a miniature version of the smiling woman in front of him is revealed.

Four-year-old Mia steps out from her hiding spot and presses her tiny body to her mother's leg, suddenly shy.

"Oh my," Hiram says, practically vibrating at the sight of the little girl. "Well, who do we have here?"

Mia giggles sweetly. "It's me, Grampa Hi _l_ am," she says cutely, scrunching up her face.

"Who's me?" Hiram asks, bending slightly. He glances at Quinn. "Who is this stranger you've brought into my home?"

Quinn's laugh is practically angelic, and Mia's is a carbon copy. Just the sight and the sound of two of the most special girls in his life warms his heart, and he very quickly beckons them into the house and out of the cold.

Quinn gently nudges Mia forward, but the older Fabray takes only one step across the threshold. Instead of coming all the way inside, she glances at her watch and nervously nibbles at the corner of her bottom lip.

Hiram reads the action for what it is. "You're not staying, are you?" he questions, even though it's rhetorical.

Quinn grimaces, but quickly schools her features when Mia glances up at her in confusion. "Where you going, Mommy?" she asks, and that tone of voice has the power to _break_ Quinn.

Quinn pulls on one of the knobs atop her winter hat and Mia giggles, shuffling further into the house to get away from the assault. "I have to go to work, baby," she says quietly before looking at Hiram with that pleading look he's never been able to resist. "It's my last shift at the hospital before I'm off for the holidays," she explains. "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named dropped her off earlier than I expected, and I didn't have anyone else to watch her on such short notice. I don't want to take her all the way to Toledo."

Hiram shakes his head in amusement. "Quinn Fabray, are you actually _asking_ me if I _want_ to spend the afternoon with my favourite grand-baby?" he asks, dropping his hands to tickle Mia's sides.

"I'm your _only_ grand-baby," Mia defends with an adorable pout.

Quinn looks sheepish. "I'm just glad you're home," she says.

Hiram nods once, knowing how finicky work and scheduling can be for a young, single mother with a demanding job. "So, does this mean I can expect you for dinner tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she says, serious and confident. He has no doubt in his mind she'll be at the Berry House at exactly seven o'clock. "What time does Puck get in?"

Mia looks up at them again. "Unca Puck?" she questions, her eyes lighting up.

Hiram places a warm arm around her tiny shoulders and draws her into his side. "That's right, my sweets, your Uncle Puck is on his way home _right now_." He looks at Quinn. "Britt and San will get in a little later, and Sam's already here."

Quinn perks up. "He is?"

"I sent him out with S-squared to pick up a few last minute things from the grocery store."

She instantly deflates, and she looks so much like a child; it's difficult to tell who is mother and daughter between Quinn and Mia in this moment. "Well, I suppose I'll just see them all later, then."

Hiram can't resist tugging her into a tight hug. "I've missed them too, Quinn," he whispers into her hair before releasing her.

Quinn rubs her hands together. "I can't stop myself from missing _all_ of them," she confesses softly, her eyes flicking towards Mia, who's suddenly very interested in Hiram's bed slippers. They're the pair she and Quinn gave him for his birthday: _Minions_.

He _loves_ them, and Mia loves that he loves them.

Hiram presses his lips together. "Oh, Quinn."

She shakes her head, absently waving off his concern. "I'm fine," she says. "It's just - you know how it is… the holidays and all."

Hiram _does_ know.

They go through this every December, and it's never become any easier for their little, makeshift family. It's not easy to ignore the very real truth that there is a missing member.

Hiram reaches for her hand. "I hate that you still blame yourself."

Quinn blinks rapidly.

"After all these years, Quinn," he presses, stepping forward ever so slightly. "It's okay to let it go. She clearly has."

Quinn's face pinches slightly. The words _hurt_ , but they're the truth. And, frankly, Quinn _has_ moved on, for the most part. She has a lovely daughter, born of love with a man she… can no longer care for. She has a wonderful, blossoming career, and she has an amazing family, even if they don't share any of the same blood.

"I know," she finally says. "You're right, Hiram. Of course, you're right. I'm just - this December _feels_ different."

Hiram manages a smile. "Well, that's because we have our favourite little monster here," he says, injecting life into his voice and tickling Mia again. "Isn't that right, my sweets?"

Quinn just smiles, dropping to her haunches so she can look at her daughter properly. "Mommy has to go to work for a little while," she explains gently. "Grandpa Hiram is going to spend the day with you, okay? You have to promise to be good for him, okay?"

Mia nods sharply. "I promise," she says, severe enough to sound like an unbreakable vow.

Quinn kisses her cheek. "Maybe you can show him your drawings from Day Care," she offers, patting the little bag hanging off her tiny shoulders. "I put them in your backpack, and I will see you both later for dinner, okay?"

Mia just nods again, before kissing her mother on the cheek this time.

Quinn's smile is her lazy, Mia smile when she straightens and Hiram feels that warmth spread from his heart to the rest of his body. "I really should get going," she says. "Thank you so much for this."

"Anytime, Quinn, you know that."

She does, but it still feels wrong, for some reason. She should be able to take care of her own kid. She has to do better than her own parents. "Later," she says, and starts to go.

"Bring an appetite," he calls out.

"Please don't feed her sugar," she shouts back, and Hiram just closes the door. With a naughty grin on his face, he turns to look at Mia. "How's about you and I bake some cookies?"

Mia's immediate smile is beaming, practically splitting her face. "Chocca chip?"

"What else for my sweet little princess?"

* * *

Hiram and Mia are elbow deep in cookie dough when Sam Evans returns from the grocery store, practically sauntering into the kitchen ahead of his two younger siblings, Steve and Stacey. He visibly brightens at the sight of Mia, and immediately scoops her up into his arms, twirling her around the kitchen as she giggles helplessly.

Steve dumps two grocery bags onto the kitchen island beside Hiram, and the older man dusts his cheeks with flour in response. The teenager immediately ducks away, grumbling something under his breath, and then stalks out of the kitchen without saying a word.

Hiram quirks an eyebrow. "What's up with him?" he asks.

Stacey can't help her snort. "We ran into his _crush_ at the store," she says. "Sam embarrassed the crap out of him."

"Stacey Margaret," Hiram bristles. "What did I say about using such language in this house?"

She flushes slightly, shrugging. "Sorry," she mumbles, and then turns her attention to Sam and Mia.

Hiram can only watch as the three of them interact, all of them blonde and wide-eyed in fascination as Mia attempts to explain just what _she_ put into the mixing bowl. Sam listens with rapt attention, and Stacey just tries to swipe some batter.

Hiram loves his life.

It's been a good one, full of love and happiness and _kids_. As a man in Lima, married to another man; finding a way to have children was… difficult. Adoption agencies weren't exactly lining up to hand over perfect babies to two gay men, which was why they eventually had to settle for the route of a surrogate first, and ended up with the most wonderful little girl either of them could have asked for.

Rachel Berry was their entire world, their lives revolving around her silly tantrums and toothy smiles. She was _everything_ , and they would have been content with just the one, right until the moment LeRoy Berry, Hiram's loving husband, encountered one Santana Lopez in the Emergency Room during one of his late night shifts at the hospital. She was only eight years old at the time, just a year younger than Rachel, and she was on the run from an abusive home.

It was… heartbreaking. LeRoy brought her home that very night because he wasn't sure what else to do, and she never left. Child Protective Services called it an _emergency_ placement at first but, the second the two men were approved as foster parents, Santana was theirs. Forever.

Of course, it was an adjustment for all of them. Santana came with her own problems, distrusting and sometimes violent with the two men. Also, Santana and Rachel both had very strong personalities and they clashed more often than not.

It was tumultuous for the first few months, until _something_ _happened_. To this day, Hiram still doesn't know what caused The Shift - as he and LeRoy like to refer to it - but he's never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The two girls made up just in time to welcome their next child to the mix.

Noah Puckerman was older than them both and, for the longest time, Hiram was wary of him. He was a ward of the state, straight out of four months in a juvenile delinquent centre for joyriding. In the great scheme of things, it wasn't the worst indiscretion, but it still made Hiram nervous. But that was all until Hiram witnessed him interact with his two girls, taking on the role of an older brother with such ease that Hiram was forced to wonder if he _had_ been an older brother before his family fell apart at the seams.

They went until Rachel turned sixteen with just three and, honestly, Hiram didn't _want_ any more. Their children were perfect, well-rounded and growing into fine young adults.

But then Hiram met Quinn Fabray on a street corner, her hair a pink mess and her clothing ratty. She was… barely fourteen, homeless and family-less, dirty and messy and just _angry_. She had a history and a story that she kept close to her chest, making her cold and hard and cruel. But, beneath it all, she was probably the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Beneath it all, there was a softness to her that he and LeRoy have spent _years_ trying to assure her it's okay to _show_.

It was easy - the decision - to bring her home. She was quiet, barely talked, and she was perfectly fine with having Noah, Rachel and Santana talk around her and over and under her. She's always been a gentle being, even though she sometimes forces herself to be hard and harsh. She's always been closest to Hiram, which was why he was the one who first noticed the shift in her; the shift in the way she started to look at… Rachel.

Hiram shakes his head.

Now is not the time to remember _that_ , because Sam is here.

Who, in all intents and purposes was always going to be their last. Ever.

But.

The boy was restless and unsettled when he arrived, unable to sit still. LeRoy believed that he was suffering from some kind of attention disorder, but Sam talked to Quinn about it, and Quinn brought it up to Hiram. Sam had two younger siblings and he had no idea where they were. It became a project for them all, searching and calling every group home they could until Hiram finally found them in Akron. It was almost a no-brainer for Stacey and Steve to come live with them, particularly with Noah already at college and Rachel headed to New York when she graduated. Soon it would be just Quinn, Santana and Sam, and Hiram _loved_ a full house.

Which was why he was especially looking forward to this holiday season. All his children were coming home.

Well, not _all_ of them.

"I think these are ready, Hiram," Stacey says, pointing to the tray of cookies she and Sam have helped Mia lay out. "How long has the oven been preheating?"

"It should be ready to go," he tells her. "We can put both trays in at the same time."

Out of everyone in the house, Stacey is the one most interested in baking. Quinn was always a fan of cooking, mainly, and the rest of the children just stayed out of the kitchen.

Some out of necessity, really. Rachel would have burnt the house down and Noah would have burnt _himself_.

Gosh, he misses them like crazy sometimes.

Once the trays are safely in the oven, they work on cleaning up, and they're done just in time for Noah's arrival. He's like a hurricane as he piles through the front door, suitcases in tow and towering over them all.

Mia goes running towards him as soon as she hears his booming voice, and she's the first person he would want to hug anyway, lifting her off the ground as if she weighs nothing at all. She squeals in delight, reaching out for him the way Quinn has been known to. It seems to be something Mia has inherited from her mother... besides the hair and eye colour, and general temperament.

Hiram watches the reunion from the sidelines, letting Noah get through each of his siblings until he finally pulls Hiram into his own embrace. Noah has always been big, tall and muscular, but Hiram can't stop seeing him as the little boy who cried himself to sleep for two weeks straight when he first arrived.

Hiram still sees the boy, man, who held this family together when Rachel's actions - and then Santana's - threatened to tear them all apart.

Hiram doesn't like to think about that time, but he has no choice in the matter sometimes. It creeps up on him, and his heart breaks for the fracture in the little life he and LeRoy built for themselves. He shakes his head. No. Not today. He's here with the family who _wants_ to be here, and he isn't going to waste a second of it. Not on something over which he has no control.

"Where's Leslie?" Hiram asks Noah, referring to the only woman to whom Noah Puckerman has managed to remain faithful.

"She was visiting her family, but she should get in tomorrow," he explains. "We had to do a little trade-off, in order for us to spend Christmas and the tail end of Hanukkah here." He shrugs slightly. "We have to spend New Years in Wilmington with her grandparents though."

Hiram grimaces in sympathy. It's not a secret to anyone here that Leslie's family don't believe Noah is good enough for her. Despite his success in his older years; the truth of his past is sometimes something people are unable to overlook. The wonderful thing about Leslie is that she doesn't seem to care. She recognises that Noah's made mistakes in his life, but he's learned and grown from them.

"San and Britt?" Noah asks Hiram, raising his eyebrows.

"Right behind you," he informs him.

"Quinn?"

"Working," he says, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "You'll see her for dinner tonight.

"Lee?"

"Working."

This time, Noah is the one to roll his eyes. "Nothing ever changes in this family, does it?"

Sam claps him on the back. "Nope," he agrees. "I mean, you're _still_ the ugliest one of the lot of us."

When they break out into a wrestling match, Hiram steps out of the way and takes hold of Mia's hand to lead her back to the kitchen so they can check on their cookies. She's already an animated child, and all this excitement is literally making her vibrate.

And, when Santana and Brittany arrive, she starts _bouncing_. She _knows_ she's the apple of all their eyes, spoilt with love and adoration in a way none of them was afforded until they were brought into the Berry home. They found that in this house, and Mia will know it her entire life, the way Rachel did.

The house has come to life, and Hiram's joy rises with every increase in volume. He's always had a loud family, and having Noah and Santana together is a recipe for burst eardrums, really. They love to try to outdo each other, both of them competitive to a fault.

In fact, all the children have competitive natures, using them in sports and life.

It amazes him how successful they've all become because of it.

When LeRoy gets home, it's easy to see the sheer sight of them is overwhelming, but he just opens his arms as he's swarmed in the entrance hall, and they all fall into a long group hug.

Once they finally release him, LeRoy is able to greet his husband, easy smiles on both their faces.

"I have to spend a few minutes in my study," LeRoy says.

"I put Mia down to nap in there, so be quiet," Hiram informs him.

LeRoy's eyes dance. "Mia's here?"

Hiram nods. "I'm not sure what Quinn and _the man_ worked out, but we're going to enjoy this time with them both."

"Definitely!"

With a kiss to Hiram's cheek, LeRoy makes his escape and the welcoming party hovers as if they're just waiting for the final member of their brood to show up. It's always bothered him a little that the linchpin to their little family is _one person_.

When they first started out, Hiram couldn't have guessed the glue holding this family together would be _Quinn Fabray_. It seems that rallying around her when the great big world fell out from under her for just the second time in her short life brought them all closer than any of them could have anticipated.

So, when Quinn does finally arrive, the collective greeting is borderline thunderous. One would think they haven't seen each other for years, but it's been a few weeks. Most of them came home for Thanksgiving and, well, Quinn is always here because she made the decision to live close to home. She says she wanted the stability of family for Mia, but Hiram figures it has a little bit to do with her as well.

This is the only _home_ she's ever known.

While Quinn is making the rounds, Hiram's phone starts to vibrate in his pocket, and he immediately retrieves it. "Hello," Hiram says, not even looking at the Caller ID as his family's laughter fills his heart with replenished warmth.

"Dad?"

The smile slips from his face instantly, and he turns away from the happy reunion occurring in front of him. "Who is this?" he asks, and it's a stupid question but he needs to be sure he's not actually dreaming.

"It's Rachel."

The air freezes in his throat at the confirmation, and he forces himself to leave the room. He hasn't heard from her in… _years_. Why is she calling now? Not that he's complaining, really. It's just so… out of the blue. "Rachel," he breathes. "How are you? Is everything okay? Are _you_ okay? Did something happen?"

"What? No," she says. "Everything's fine, Dad."

"Okay…?" He blinks a few times. "I'm sorry, umm, is there a reason you're calling?"

The question is met with silence.

"Rachel?"

"Are you at home?"

Hiram takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly. "Am I at home?" he echoes.

"Yes."

"I am, yes."

"Would it be all right if - if I stopped by?"

Hiram sucks in a shocked breath. "What?"

"Can I come home, Dad?"

To Hiram, she sounds _small_ , and exasperated. Maybe frustrated, but just demure as well. "You're… in town?"

"Just arrived, actually."

He swallows audibly. "And you want to come… here?"

"It is my home, isn't it?"

Hiram forces himself not to react to those words because, really, this hasn't been Rachel's home in years, and he's not going to kid himself into thinking anything has changed since the night she… left. "Of course," he says anyway. "I'm at home, Rachel," he says. "We're all here."

"Oh."

"When can we expect you?"

"Twenty minutes."

Hiram isn't sure that's enough time. Frankly, he isn't even sure _what_ to say or do right now. Should he _tell_ the family? What are they going to think? What are they going to do? "Okay," he says.

"Okay."

"Oh, and Rachel?" he says.

"Dad?"

"You won't be well received," he warns her.

"I know."

Hiram doesn't think she _does_ , but he won't say that. His daughter is coming home, and he's supposed to be happy about it, but he's… not, and he hates himself for it. "Until then, Rachel."

"Bye, Dad."

When Hiram hangs up, his entire body deflates. All the happiness of their reunion is going to be sucked right out of the air. She's going to _ruin_ their holiday, and he's sure she already knows it. When Hiram spins around to return to the entrance hall, he's met with the piercing eyes of one Santana Lopez.

"San - " he starts to say, but she cuts him off.

"Was that - was that Rachel?"

Hiram hasn't really ever been able to lie to her, so all he does is nod.

"She - called?"

He nods again.

"Why?"

"She's coming home."

Santana's eyes widen slightly, and her ears pick up on the steady laughter of one Quinn Fabray in the background. She cringes automatically, just _knowing_ this holiday is going to turn to complete shit. "Well, _fuck_."

Normally, he would chastise her for her language, but he actually agrees with her sentiment this time.

* * *

"We have to tell her," Santana says, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She's been pacing for the last ten minutes, muttering obscene things under her breath as she tries to wrap her head around the very _idea_ of Rachel's return to Lima. "We have to prepare her, Hiram," she forces out. "We can _not_ let her get blindsided. She's been through enough."

Hiram still isn't sure what to say. What can he say? "Where is she now?"

"With Mia," Santana says. "I sent her into LeRoy's study. Quinn's missed that kid something fierce, and she was just itching to lay eyes on her Mini-Me."

Hiram just nods. "Quinn actually brought _her_ up earlier."

Her eyebrows rise. "She did?"

"Expressed regret over... everything," he explains. "She said she had a feeling this holiday was going to be… different. It's as if she knew."

"But, she couldn't have, right?" she asks. "She would be a fucking mess."

Hiram presses his lips together, not responding.

They know far too much about Quinn Fabray's state of mind.

"Well, more than she is right now," Santana adds a beat later.

Hiram shakes his head. "I don't know what we're supposed to do," he says. "If we tell Quinn, we have to tell everyone. She's not the only one who's going to be caught off guard by this. _I'm_ barely holding it together."

Santana practically growls. "All the progress she's made is just going to be derailed," she says coldly. "Like, why would she choose _now_ to come home, after she's just been living it up without us for so fucking long?"

Hiram suspects she has her reasons, and he's sure none of them is going to like them. "Maybe we should tell Noah," he says. "I should tell LeRoy. We should - " his sentence is cut off by the sound of the doorbell, and he freezes.

Santana just stares at him with wide eyes before she's suddenly moving, intent on getting to the door before anybody else, but she isn't quick enough and she walks into an odd scene that probably would have made her laugh on any other day.

Instead, it kind of makes her want to cry.

Standing in the open doorway, dumbstruck and mouth hanging open, is Sam, staring helplessly at a very put-together Rachel Berry.

The entire entrance hall has fallen silent, just staring, and Hiram feels his skin crawl with just how _wrong_ this is. It should never have come to this. Gosh, why was everything so difficult? Why had they made it that way?

Why had _she_?

"Oh look," Santana drawls, filling the silence; "the prodigal daughter returns."

Rachel barely looks at her as she searches all their faces - looking mildly disappointed - and settles her eyes on Hiram. "Dad," she says and, someone help him, she's _still_ his baby girl. He can't resist taking steps towards her until she's in his arms, wrapping her in the first hug they've shared since… forever. He can hear Santana make a disgusted sound and he immediately releases Rachel, looking a little sheepish.

"Come in," he says strongly. "Let's close the door. All the cold is coming in."

There's shuffling and awkwardness and nobody's really sure how to act right now because they know it would just be buckets worse if Quinn were here.

Quinn.

Shit.

Santana shakes her head, grabs for Brittany's hand, and then storms into the kitchen, barely glancing at Rachel.

Hiram flinches as the door slams, and he looks to Noah for something, anything.

All he does is shrug and say, "Welcome home, Berry."

Rachel offers him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Noah. It's nice to see you."

He grunts something unintelligible, and then pushes off the wall and heads into the living room. The rest of them follow, unsure and hesitant. Hiram shuffles slowly behind them, wondering if this evening can get any worse.

Which, in hindsight, is probably the _worst_ thing to think because it _does_.

They've just settled down in the living room, Noah and Hiram in armchairs; Rachel, Sam and Stacey on the three-seater couch and Steve sprawled out on the floor - his preferred position, despite the various furniture - when the world comes crashing down all around them.

"Hiram, I _told_ you not to feed her any sugar," Quinn calls out from somewhere in the house, and everyone instinctively tenses, just _waiting_. "How on earth am I supposed to get her to eat anything, let alone sl - " Quinn stops dead in the archway, her eyes immediately settling on the petite brunette sitting between Sam and Stacey.

Hiram can practically see the cogwheels turning in Quinn's head, her jaw setting and her eyes turning cold right before their eyes.

They've just taken a hundred steps back, he's sure.

Quinn rolls her shoulders once, almost as if she's steeling herself for what's to come.

Maybe she can be the bigger person.

Maybe she can force out a greeting and settle the rest of them.

Because, really, if Quinn is going to be hostile, then the rest of them are as well, and Hiram _really_ doesn't want to have that kind of Christmas celebration.

It looks like it pains her, but Quinn does open her mouth to speak, only to have her words stolen by the sound of the tiniest of voices.

"Mommy?"

Quinn's attention is immediately diverted to Mia at her side, and Rachel gasps audibly, her eyes trained on the little girl tugging on Quinn's slacks. Quinn, to her credit, ignores Rachel's reaction and scoops the four-year-old into her arms, lifting her up to settle her on her hip. "Did you say hi to everyone?"

Mia nods glumly, her eyes still clouded with sleep. She napped for too long, and Hiram knows Quinn is going to have a word with him about afternoon nap etiquette. It's going to take ages for her to get to sleep tonight... or Quinn hopes Mia will hold onto the tiredness for just after dinner and pass out once she's eaten.

Mia rubs at her eyes before they focus, and her eyes snap towards Rachel. "Not everyone," she says simply. "Who is she, Mommy?"

Quinn blinks in rapid succession, but she can't bring herself to explain.

Noah, thankfully, saves her. "That's Rachel, honey," he says, his voice taking on the smooth, almost musical, quality it does for only Mia.

Mia looks at her mother. "Is she the Wachel Auntie San says is a bad word I'm not s'pposed to say?"

Despite herself, Quinn chuckles, which allows some of the tension in the air to dissipate. "Yes, baby," Quinn says; "she's the one."

"Oh."

Quinn glances over the room, taking in their rigid postures and general discomfort. Oh, well. "LeRoy's starving," she says. "Are we having dinner or what because I have to get this bambino to bed in the next hour or we're _all_ going to have a problem."

Mia folds her little arms over her chest. "I'm not a bambino," she says hotly, which is just all kinds of adorable.

It prompts Noah out of his chair, and he immediately grabs a squealing Mia from Quinn's arms. "To the dining room," he calls out, lifting her above his head and giving everyone a heart attack.

"Puck," Quinn screams, following after him. "Don't you dare drop my daughter."

"When have I _ever_ dropped her?" he shoots back, and Hiram can only smile fondly. Their easy banter is enough to get the other children moving, and everyone but Hiram and Rachel gets up from his or her position and heads toward the kitchen or dining room. Hiram trusts them enough to get the food safely on the table because he suspects Rachel has questions for him, and the first one she asks isn't a surprise at all.

"Quinn has a daughter?"

Hiram blinks once, twice, before slowly nodding. "She does," he says. "Her name is Mia, and she'll be turning five in May next year."

Rachel's eyes give nothing away, but he's always been able to read his daughter. She might be an award winning actress, but her little subtleties have always given her away to him.

It's always made it difficult for her to deceive him, until, well, she deceived them _all_.

"She's beautiful," she says, almost whispering in awe, and he can tell she means every word.

"That, she is," he agrees.

"I've - I've missed so much."

Hiram isn't sure how to respond to that, and he's saved from having to come up with something by LeRoy's arrival. The much taller man practically lopes into the room, unaware, and halts at the sight of the daughter they haven't seen since she decided her career trumped family. LeRoy does a comical double take, and then smiles.

It's almost a… knowing smile, and Hiram files that away for another day.

He and Rachel _have_ always been closer, which has usually been a topic of contention between the two men. Unbeknownst to the rest of the children, LeRoy harbours very little to no resentment toward Rachel for the decisions she's made.

Hiram doesn't understand how that could be… when her decisions almost tore this family apart.

All Hiram can do is watch their reunion, LeRoy's hug considerably warmer than his own. While they 'catch up,' he rises and leaves the room in the guise of supervising the final dinner preparations.

As expected, Quinn has whipped them into shape, and she's trying to get everyone to settle while casually dishing some food into Mia's favourite bowl. The little girl is hell spent on eating out of bowls these days, and Quinn has decided to indulge her… after a handful of tantrums.

"Do we really have to put up with this shit?" Santana asks, moving to stand next to Hiram. Her voice is low enough for Quinn - and Mia - not to hear her. "I mean, she can't just show up here after ten years and expect everything to be fine."

"I don't think she _ever_ expected that," he says, watching as Quinn carefully keeps an eye on Mia as she attempts to feed herself with a spoon that's much too big for her.

"Then what _did_ she expect?"

"A bad reaction," he says; "but she came anyway."

Before Santana can respond, LeRoy enters the dining room, gently tugging Rachel behind him. The atmosphere shifts again but Quinn barely glances up from Mia, and it's a dismissal if Hiram's ever seen one.

Surprisingly quietly, the family settles around the large dining table that LeRoy and Hiram invested in, in order to accommodate their forever growing family. They can all sit at the same table now - even with Rachel in attendance.

And Brittany, who joined their family only recently by being the one person Santana has allowed herself to love truly and _show_ it.

LeRoy makes sure to sit Rachel beside him, and she's almost sheltered in a corner, flanked by Noah at the head of the table and LeRoy sitting beside Mia. It's a prime position for Quinn, really, because then she doesn't have to _see_ Rachel whenever she looks up.

Before they start eating, Noah leads them in prayer. They've always been a religiously - and sexually - fluid home, so they accept all the religions represented, and saying some form of Grace is just something that's been adopted over the years. Noah, thankfully, keeps it brief and succinct, even though Hiram is sure the man _wants_ to throw in a jab or two.

"Let's eat," Hiram finally declares, and they do.

Quinn doesn't immediately dish out food for herself. She's never been one to do that and, during her teenage years, Hiram and LeRoy had to deal with her having quite a few issues with food and body image. She's doing better now, of course, and he reasons that Mia helps with that. By ensuring that her daughter is being properly fed, she _ha_ s to pay attention to her own nutrition as well.

"Oh, everything but the roast is vegan, of course," Hiram quips, and Noah huffs as Santana rolls her eyes.

"Bunch of - " Santana starts to say but Quinn's sharp look cuts her off. Whatever dirty thing she had planned dies on her lips when she remembers Mia is sitting _right there_ , looking all kinds of cute as she spoon-feeds herself some mashed potato, broken chicken and gravy.

When everyone's dished, Quinn _finally_ sees to her own plate. She never eats _much_ , but her locker at work is _full_ of protein bars, which are mainly used to supplement the vegan diet she adopted when she started medical school. Hiram always frowns at the protein bars but she's always been a bit of a shortcut taker… Even in her own career. He supposes that graduating from medical school at just the age of twenty-four would give her a complex, but she's had her eye on the prize from the moment she decided it was what she wanted.

Even Rachel couldn't derail _that_.

Conversation is slow, mainly consisting of compliments to the food and the occasional backchat between Noah and Sam, who are alike in ways even they don't understand. Nerds, really, and fiercely loyal and protective of their families. It's probably _why_ they've always been so conflicted about the entire Quinn/Rachel situation, because it never quite occurred to any of them that they would have to protect their family from… their family.

"Anything interesting happen at the hospital?" Steve asks Quinn because, out of all of them, _he's_ the only one showing genuine interest in following LeRoy and Quinn into medicine. And, with his senior year coming up and college applications expected to go out soon, he's obviously been weighing his options.

"Not really," Quinn answers, always happy to indulge him with the day-to-day of her chosen career. "I did have a teenager throw up me, though."

Stacey pulls a disgusted face, and Noah guffaws.

"Definitely not the first time that's happened," Santana says.

Quinn just smiles at her before looking at Steve. "We do have a patient with almost as big a _Star Wars_ obsession as Sam though," she says.

"No ways?" Noah says, at the same time Sam says, "It's not an obsession."

There's a bout of laughter, right until the moment Rachel says, "Well, this family is all about denying obsessions, isn't it?" and all sound is sucked right out of the room. She looks perfectly poised, just sitting there as if she's said _nothing_.

But, they all know.

They _know_.

Quinn shifts awkwardly, her jaw clenching and her eyes narrowing. It takes _everything_ she has not to say anything, and it's only Mia's presence that keeps her from flying off the handle.

LeRoy clears his throat and gestures for the bowl of peas. "Stace, can you please pass the peas?"

Carefully, the bowl is sent his way, and still nobody says anything.

Quinn just keeps her head ducked, watching Mia finish up with her food. She's made a mess, of course, but it's considerably less than it could have been had she been younger or Quinn wasn't supervising. Quinn uses a napkin to wipe at her mouth and hands when she's done, and then sends her off to watch cartoons while she finishes her own dinner in complete silence.

Noah manages to get conversation started again, bypassing Rachel's awkward comment… right until she makes another one. Quinn's back straightens at the words: _at least I got out of this hellhole_ , and Hiram watches as her features settle into a mask she hasn't worn in years.

Santana was right.

All that progress, just, gone.

Quinn gracefully wipes at the corners of her mouth with her own napkin before she gently rises to her feet. "Thank you for dinner," she says to the table, but her eyes are on Hiram. "I think it's best I get Mia home before she can fall asleep on your couch. You know how my back acts up in the cold."

It's an excuse to leave if ever they've heard one, but nobody will tell her to stay, even if they _want_ to.

With one last, tight smile, she lifts her plate and Mia's bowl, and then disappears into the kitchen.

Almost as if a switch has been flipped, the entire table rounds on Rachel. "What the fuck is your problem?" Santana asks, furious. "It's barely been an hour and _already_ you're on about that. Jesus Christ, are you actually that fucking stupid?"

Brittany places a soothing hand on Santana's arm and it's enough to have her calm a little, but she does track the movement of Rachel's eyes as they stare at her and then Brittany and then at the contact they're sharing.

Slowly, a smile spreads across her face.

"Oh, yeah," Santana says, not bothering to hide her own disgust. "Some of us _aren't_ repressed in this house," she says. "We also aren't fucking bigots, and we sure as hell don't run out in the middle of the night like the little fuckers we are."

"San," Brittany says, and that makes Santana jump to her feet.

"Fuck this," she huffs. "I did _not_ come home just to watch this bitch tear Quinn apart again. LeRoy, Hiram, control your child before I break her face." It's the kind of threat they haven't heard in years, but it carries _meaning_. She may be a happily-married Assistant District Attorney now, but that ruthless fighter is still inside of her, ready to attack if prodded.

It's all she says, though, as she too leaves the room, Brittany trailing behind.

"Well," Noah says, burping. "I should probably check on my favourite blonde."

"Hey," Sam, Steve and Stacey all say at the same time.

"I mean Mia, obviously," Noah says, rolling his eyes. "Jeez." And then, he too rises and disappears.

Sam waits a moment before following, and Stacey goes as well, but Steve lingers, his eyes on Rachel. Even though he's 'obsessed' with Quinn's job, he's always looked up to Rachel, and it hurts to see her like this: bitter and angry and _lost_.

Quietly, so quietly, he says, "Whatever you came home for; I hope your intentions are pure." It's not a threat, but more of a plea. " _Quinn_ didn't leave us the way you did. She went to college just like you did, and she came back because she _wanted_ to. We _won't_ push her out of our lives the way you pushed us out of yours."

Rachel's eyes are pooling with tears when she finally looks at him.

"Stop with this," he says, sounding much older than his seventeen years. "Because we both know which way we'll swing if ever we're forced to choose." And that's all he says, finally rising and leaving the dining room to Rachel and her fathers.

"Well," LeRoy says, scratching the skin of his cheek. "That went… well."

Hiram shakes his head in disapproval. "Now isn't the time for your jokes, LeRoy," he admonishes. "Somehow, if we're going to survive these holidays, we're going to _have_ to be civil."

LeRoy sobers instantly, nodding his head. "Of course. You're right, Hiram."

"That is, if you intend to stay," Hiram ventures to say, looking at Rachel. He won't be naive enough to think she'll actually stay for any amount of time, or even in this house, but he can dream, can't he?

"I'm staying," she finally answers, voice shaky. "At, umm, the hotel on Vermont Drive."

Hiram doesn't offer her to stay in her old room because it's no longer her room. It hasn't been for a while now, and he doubts it ever will be again.

Stubbornly, LeRoy tried to preserve it.

Quinn used it for her... mourning process, and then nothing.

 _Oh, Quinn_.

Hiram rises to his feet and abandons the table like the rest of his family. He goes in search of Quinn, almost desperate to ask her to stay. At least long enough to have some coffee and dessert with them. His words fall dead on his lips though, when he spies Quinn standing in the living room with Mia wrapped around her and Mia's backpack hanging off one of her shoulders.

Her face is set.

She's ready to go.

Hiram sighs heavily, and she shoots him a sheepish, somewhat apologetic look. She knows she's just ducking out unnecessarily early, but she needs some time. Rachel is here, and it's such an adjustment. She needs to get a hold of herself, and then reevaluate.

"You know you don't have to leave," he says anyway, because he would be remiss if he didn't. This is her home, even if it's turned a little toxic tonight of all nights.

"I know," she says softly, running a gentle hand over Mia's soft blonde hair. "But I am pretty tired, and the rascal can barely keep her eyes open. What did you two do today that has her so tuckered out?"

"I think it's all the excitement," he says, scrubbing his face. "Did you at least take some cookies?"

She nods. "Stacey packed some for us, and we've got them right here." She pats her own shoulder, indicating Mia's tiny, pink _Barbie_ backpack. "Mia's already talking about the cookies you're going to be baking for Santa. I haven't yet decided if he's vegan though."

Hiram chuckles lightly, and Quinn uses the opportunity to take in the various people sitting in the living room. She's already said her farewells, so she just smiles reassuringly, just to let them know she's okay even though she's not.

She's literally the furthest thing from _okay_.

"Goodnight," she says. "Say goodnight, Mia."

Mia mumbles something against Quinn's neck, and they all smile in response.

"Well, you heard her," Quinn says with a shrug. "Open the door for me, will you?"

Hiram nods, stepping into the entrance hall with Quinn following behind. "We're seeing you tomorrow, right?" he asks, just as he opens the door… to find a man standing there with a finger poised to press the doorbell. "Oh."

The man bristles slightly, tugging on his jacket and offering such a fake smile that Quinn actually shudders. Neither she nor Hiram recognises him, but that doesn't deter him in any way. "Good evening," he says, his voice layered in superiority. "I'm looking for Rachel."

Hiram blinks. "Who are you?" he asks.

The man looks mildly put out by that, as if they're expected to know who he is. "I'm Jesse St James," he says proudly. "Rachel's boyfriend."

Hiram feels Quinn stiffen at his side, and that's another thirty thousand steps back. The air seems to have left her body, and she blinks repeatedly. Of course, this man is Rachel's boyfriend. He's practically the poster boy for the ideal partner she told Quinn she wanted out of life: handsome, ambitious and a strong presence.

Quinn is all of those things, bar for the fact that she's a woman.

Hiram isn't even sure what to say to the man or to Quinn, but she saves him by reiterating her goodbye, and then pushing past the man standing in the doorway. All Hiram can do is watch her go and hope she'll come back to the house before the new year. She's been known to disappear from time to time, and they've had to send search parties to her house in Claremont. It's not all that far away, but it's far enough from this place that now contains one Rachel Berry.

The man in the doorway, Jesse, clears his throat, drawing Hiram's attention. "Are you going to invite me inside?" he asks.

"Well, you're a stranger, so, no," Hiram says.

Jesse frowns. "But I'm her boyfriend."

"And, for all I know, you could be a stalker," he counters. "She's very famous, you know."

"I do know," he forces out, and Hiram's protective instincts kick in. Who is this man?

"Jesse?" Rachel says from somewhere behind Hiram. "What are you doing here?"

Jesse peers over Hiram's shoulder, looking equal parts relieved and annoyed. "Well, I'm freezing my ass off out here and this man won't let me in."

"This _man_ is my father, Jesse," she says tensely, as she moves to stand beside Hiram, merely aiding him in blocking the entrance. "And I'm quite certain I made myself explicitly clear to you. Why are you here?"

Jesse exaggerates a shiver, but neither Rachel nor Hiram makes a move to let him into the house. "I wanted to see you."

"Was that before or after you discussed what we talked about with your publicist?"

Jesse, wisely, doesn't respond.

"Go back to New York, Jesse," Rachel says, sounding more tired and defeated than Hiram has ever heard her. "There's nothing for you here." And, with that, she closes the door right in his face and sucks in a shuddering breath.

Hiram takes a moment before he places a gentle hand on Rachel's shoulder in comfort. If it wasn't obvious she was running from something before; it's very clear now.

Rachel takes another deep breath before she straightens her spine and slips the mask onto her face. She looks as pristine as ever when she turns to look at Hiram. "So... that was Jesse," she says softly. "My... boyfriend."

Hiram says nothing; just waits.

"Did - umm - did she see him?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

He nods in response.

"Oh." She blinks. "I didn't - he wasn't - I never intended to bring him here." She drops her head in defeat. "I don't want to keep hurting her."

Hiram bristles at the sound of that. "Well, you sure have a wonderful way of showing it," he says. "What was that at the dinner table?"

"I wasn't expecting her to be here," Rachel meekly defends. "I didn't react well."

"And why wouldn't Quinn be here?"

"I don't know, Dad," she says, exasperated. "I haven't seen her in ten years. There are a long list of reasons for her absence that I probably couldn't even come up with... Like, I don't know, maybe, she has a kid."

Hiram sighs heavily.

"She has a kid," Rachel repeats in wonder.

Of all the things she was expecting to find when she finally made her return to Lima; it was _not_ Quinn Fabray with a daughter. It's almost surreal, out-of-this-world, and it makes Rachel feel even worse whenever she thinks about everything she's missed. She wasn't kidding when she said she's missed _so much_ : graduations and birthdays and weddings and funerals.

"That isn't all she has," Hiram finds himself saying, flushing slightly with sudden anger. "She also has a wonderful job and her own home. She has a future that she's spent years building for herself and she's finally at a place where she can consider herself happy. So, for what it's worth, Rachel, honey, whatever you're here for; be here. Just, please don't leave the kind of destruction you left the last time you decided Quinn Fabray would amount to nothing."

It feels like a slap to the face, and Rachel knows she deserves it.

Hiram offers her a last, almost sympathetic, look before he goes to the kitchen to oversee the packing away of the food and possibly eat a cookie or twelve.

Rachel remains where she is, her mind spinning. So much has changed and so much has stayed the same. It's unnerving, terrifying and comforting all at the same time. She's aware enough to acknowledge her antics at dinner definitely haven't earned her any brownie points, but she was only reacting.

Poorly.

"So, you brought the boyfriend to meet the family, huh?" Santana drawls, getting Rachel's attention as she strides purposefully into the entrance hall. "Did you conveniently forget about Quinn?"

Rachel, to her credit, doesn't take the bait.

"Why are you even here?"

It's silent for another full minute before she finally speaks. "I needed to come home."

" _Needed_ , huh?" Santana questions. "So, it was a necessity. Not a desire." She shakes her head. "Why are you here? I mean, did you come just to mess her up, because you're already doing a fantastic job at it."

"That's not why I'm here."

"Could've fooled me."

"Well, I've been fooling many people for too many years, Santana," she says. "I'm rather good at it."

"Believe me, we know."

They glare at each other for the longest time, neither one willing to back down.

"Why do you even care?" Rachel finally snaps. "If I recall correctly, you never even _wanted_ us to be together."

Santana takes a menacing step forward, and Rachel forces herself not to react. She doesn't want to give Santana the satisfaction of seeing her falter, even though all she wants to do is cower, curl up into a tight ball and have someone _hold her_.

"And do you know why?" Santana asks, menacingly. "Because I _knew_. I could see it in your eyes, Berry. Quinn was blinded by what she felt for you, but I could see it as plain as day. The hesitancy; the apprehension; the _fear_. I didn't want you to give in because I _knew_ you would run, but even I didn't know you would end up doing it so spectacularly."

Rachel clenches her jaw.

"I hope it was worth it, you know?" Santana continues. "I hope you have everything you ever wanted; really, I do, because it would be even worse for her if you didn't. Because then it would make everything she's ever been through when it comes to you amount to nothing."

At the sound of that, Rachel's gaze does drop, and Santana practically growls.

"Oh, fuck," she says, scrubbing her face. "You're not even fucking _happy_ , are you? What is _wrong_ with you?"

Rachel isn't sure how to answer that, and hearing Santana practically spit on her perceived _success_ makes her irrationally angry. Which is the only reason she ends up saying what she does. "At least I'm happier than I would be if I were stuck in this stupid, damn town; being a _nobody_ just to be with - "

"How dare you?" Santana practically barks, interrupting her. "You don't get to talk about her, okay? You don't. Not today. Not ever."

Rachel's jaw clenches, unwilling to back down.

"You still don't get it, do you? You don't even know what you did because you weren't here for the aftermath. You didn't have to see her and hear her and try to explain what nobody could understand. You have no idea how you broke her, Rachel, and now you're back, floating right in with your snippy remarks, as if she owes you a damn thing! I won't have it, okay? We've worked too damn hard to put her back together, just to have you waltz in and fucking ruin everything again!"

Before Rachel can even think to respond, their argument is interrupted by Noah, sounding as unimpressed and disappointed as any older brother can manage. "Could you two please _stop_?" he says, shaking his head. "Arguing isn't going to help anyone; least of all Quinn." He runs a hand over his short hair. "Rachel, you did a shitty thing, and you're not helping yourself. Santana, stop antagonising her. This is our home, okay, and I for one would love to enjoy the holidays without wanting to off the lot of you."

Santana's eyes narrow.

Noah just looks bored. "Do you think this is what Quinn wants?" he asks gently, knowing that brining Quinn into the mix will make them both back down.

Even though Rachel has proven time and time again that she has a one-track mind, Noah's still convinced she cares about Quinn.

She _has_ to.

"Whatever," Santana says, stalking out of the entrance hall past Noah and into the living room where the rest of the family has gathered.

Noah looks at Rachel for the longest time. "It's good to see you, Rae," he says, his voice soothing. "But it's enough now. Quinn is as much a part of this family as you are, perhaps even more, and you're going to find a fight everywhere you turn if you keep this up." Offering her one last, tight smile, he turns and walks into the living room, just in time to catch Sam checking his phone.

"She just texted," Sam says. "She and Mia are safely at home, she's _fine_ and the little blonde is halfway to asleep already."

Quinn's message gives them little relief, and Stacey is the one to ask the question they're all thinking. "She _is_ coming back, right? It's not like she's going to stay away or something like that, right?"

Silence.

Hiram clears his throat, pasting on a smile. "Of course, Stace," he says. "Rachel isn't enough to keep her away. She wasn't back then, and she's definitely not now."

* * *

Despite the text she sends to Sam, Quinn is decidedly not… fine.

And, despite her sugar rush, Mia does fall asleep during the short drive to their home, and Quinn is forced to carry her up the stairs. After trying to get a half asleep Mia to use the toilet - Quinn really doesn't want any nighttime accidents - she lays Mia down on her _Barbie_ comforter, and slowly strips her of her day clothes. It's much easier to do while she's sleeping, of course, and Quinn even braves wiping her down with a damp cloth before dressing her in her fuzzy pink pyjamas and dousing her in way too much baby powder.

Once Quinn deems her ready, she shifts the covers out of the way and tucks Mia's tiny body into bed. Mia doesn't sleep well without her stuffed lamb, so Quinn places it in her arms. It's nights like these that she's certain she's made all the correct decisions in her life. There are times when she questions everything but, sitting on the edge of Mia's bed and being able to _look_ at her, Quinn knows it's all been _worth_ it. Every high and low; every success and failure; every happiness and sadness. All of it.

Quinn bends to kiss Mia's forehead, switches on her night light, and then leaves her baby girl to sleep with the door slightly ajar. Mia needs to be able to get to her quickly if she wakes in the middle of the night.

But, right now, Quinn needs a stiff drink.

Rachel is back.

She's back.

In the kitchen, Quinn pours herself two fingers of Bourbon. She remembers it being one of her father's drinks of choice and, as much as she'd like to hate the taste; she's rather fond of it. She doesn't appreciate the memories attached to the smell, but there's an odd amount of comfort to be found in the _act_ of sipping at the brown liquid. It makes her feel melancholy; nostalgic for a relationship that barely had a _chance_ to be anything.

She thinks she was naive to think Rachel would even have considered _more_. It was a childish notion that only a sixteen-year-old would dream up. Rachel, at eighteen, was more realistic. She _knew_ what she wanted from life, and it was far more than what Quinn could even dream about. Because, really, at the time, Quinn couldn't see much past the Rachel Berry-sized future she wanted, and she missed the signs that Rachel's future was miles bigger than what Quinn could ever dream of offering her.

Rachel knew it then and Quinn knows it now.

She's spent years coming to terms with it, but it doesn't make it hurt any less. Still, to this day, waking up to _nothing_ cuts through her in a way that is almost paralysing. Even years later, through endless hours of therapy; it still _hurts_. The trauma of the realisation she was used; she wasn't believed to be _enough_. It hurts in ways she's never known before and, until tonight, she was convinced she had a handle on it.

But.

Rachel is back.

 _Jesus_.

Quinn downs her drink and goes upstairs. Maybe she needs sleep. She goes into her bedroom and strips ungracefully. She throws on sweatpants and an old Harvard hoodie because it's unnaturally cold. When she's done in the bathroom, she stands in the middle of her room and stares at her bed as if it's insulted her in some way.

Making the decision, Quinn goes to Mia's bedroom, scoops the girl into her arms and brings her into her own bedroom, settling them both under her heavy covers. Quinn just wants her baby close, and she isn't even ashamed. Having Rachel back has brought up painful memories of days she's tried desperately to forget.

She should know better.

There are just things that can't be forgotten.

Rachel Berry is one of them.

So is the pain of heartbreak.

* * *

Thoughts of those last few days prior to Rachel's departure are also plaguing LeRoy Berry as he lies in bed. Like Rachel - and Quinn, to some extent - he made decisions that have affected them all, and he's worried it's all going to be revealed with the way things are going this particular holiday. He doesn't believe he played that _big_ a role in the trajectories of their lives, but it _was_ significant.

Everything would be different if he stayed out of it.

He knows that.

He's always known that, and now they're all going to know it as well.

* * *

When she leaves her childhood home, Rachel doesn't go straight to her hotel and its foreign comfort.

Instead, she goes for a drive through Lima just because she can. So much has changed in the ten years she's been gone, and yet so much is still the same. It's disconcerting, but still rather comforting. She goes past her old high school, the breeding ground for some of her worst and best memories. She's not naive enough not to _know_ her school career was altered in so many ways because of Noah... and eventually because of Santana.

They offered her the kind of protection that saw her through her four years with little fanfare.

Then there was Quinn, who, quite simply, took to the role of Head Cheerleader like a fish in water. Santana grumbled during her sophomore year that Quinn would probably usurp her and take the Captaincy the moment the current Head Cheerleader graduated. And, she wasn't wrong. That in itself gave Rachel a different _kind_ of protection, because it was obvious to nearly anyone who bothered to look that Quinn Fabray was quite smitten with Rachel Berry, a girl two years her senior, who she happened to live with.

There were _so_ many things wrong with it.

And yet.

Rachel shakes her head of the thoughts. As much as they plague her, she forces herself not to think about that time.

It's another life.

 _She's_ a different person now, and what's past is past.

It's clear they've moved on as well.

Quinn definitely has.

She has a daughter, for Christ's sake.

When Rachel finally makes it back to her hotel, she's tired and freezing. She _knows_ she hasn't helped herself, given the way this evening's reunion went, but it couldn't be helped. She... reacted, rather than responded, and now Quinn is... well, she doesn't even know what Quinn is.

She's beautiful.

That much, Rachel _does_ know, and it seems she has a hell of a lot more to figure out.

Making her way to her room, all Rachel can think about is crawling into _a_ bed and trying to get some sleep. Things _have_ to be better in the morning, so all she has to do is get there.

But.

She sighs heavily when she sees him, his form camped out in front of her hotel room door. She's tempted to ignore him completely, but he's literally in the way. "Jesse," she exhales. "What are you doing here?" she asks tiredly, fishing for her room key in her handbag.

At the sound of her voice, Jesse scrambles to his feet. "I had to see you," he says. "Kurt told me I could find you here."

She makes a mental note to _kill_ Kurt. "I thought I told you to go back to New York," she says.

"Rach, come on, I couldn't just _leave_."

"Why?" she deadpans; "you did it the other day."

Jesse grimaces. "I was… shocked," he says. "It was a surprise."

"I'm sure it was," she says haughtily. "It was for me too, you know? But, unlike you, I don't get to run from this."

Jesse drops his gaze. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Wow," she says, shaking her head. "Do you want a medal or something?"

"Why are you being like this?"

"Like what, Jesse?" she asks, glaring at him. "Truthful? Realistic?" She sucks in a breath. "For once, can you please just do what I ask and leave me alone? I'm tired and I've had a shit day, so, please, just _go_." She doesn't wait for a response as she finally gets her door open and disappears into the best hotel room Lima has to offer.

It isn't the worst room she could be in, but it feels... empty.

Lonely, even.

 _She_ does.

Painfully slowly, she gets ready for bed, running through her nighttime routine and finding comfort in all the things that _haven't_ changed. She misses New York. She misses her friends and her safety, but she _knows_ she had no other choice than to come home. She wasn't kidding when she told Santana she needed to come home.

It _was_ a necessity, because there was nowhere else for her to go.

This is her home, despite her feelings towards New York.

This is her home, despite the way she ran out of it some ten years ago.

She barely looked back, determined to reach stardom regardless of the destruction she left behind. Quinn. Her family. Her _fathers_.

There wasn't a fight.

There wasn't even a discussion because, like the coward she is, Rachel blindsided them all.

She left in the middle of the night, leaving the warmth of her bed and packing her things in silence. She left letters trying to explain, but even she knew they would mean nothing. She was taking the easy way out, but she knew she would never be able to leave if she were to look into Quinn's hazel eyes and see all the love and adoration.

It would have… broken her.

It would have kept her here. Which would have broken her in the end.

It would have broken them all.


	2. Outside the Lines

**Part Two**

 **Outside the Lines**

* * *

The morning brings with it little clarity for Rachel. She's exhausted and irritable, and she _really_ misses her bed in her apartment. At least _that_ mattress actually _feels_ like it costs more than twenty dollars. So much for the _best in Lima_. Her body aches and she has a headache.

Still, those pains are nothing compared to what she's feeling in her chest.

Her heart, specifically.

Rachel was under no illusions that coming back to Lima would be easy but she didn't expect it to be this bad. It's all her own doing, of course, but she couldn't have been expected to act rationally when faced with Quinn Fabray. She realises now how naive it was to think Quinn wouldn't be here.

It _is_ the holidays and, frankly, wasn't Rachel the one who predicted that Quinn would forever remain in Lima?

Well, she wasn't wrong about _that,_ was she?

She feels like such a bitch the second she thinks the thought, and she physically slaps her own cheek before going for a shower to clear her head. She accepts the brief reprieve, her mind and body experience under the heat of the water and the steam in the air. She has a lot to accomplish on this trip: make amends, learn some truths and settle into the decisions she's already mentally made.

When Rachel is finally ready to face the day, she opens her hotel room door to find Jesse sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall opposite her. Her initial reaction is to slam the door shut, but she has things to do and people to see. _He_ was never part of her return to Lima and she actually hates him a little bit for deciding that he could just come to her home and expect things from her.

Jesse scrambles to his feet as soon as he sees her, but she ignores him in favour of closing the door tightly behind her and stalking down the corridor towards the elevators. "Rachel?" he says, jogging to keep up with her. "Rachel, please, can we just talk?"

She doesn't say a word as she reaches the lifts and presses the button. She taps her foot impatiently as she waits, her arms folded defensively.

"Rachel," he tries again, reaching out to touch her.

She steps out of reach. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night, Jesse," she says haughtily. "I don't want to talk to you right now. We'll talk when I get back to New York."

Jesse shakes his head. "I'm not going home until you and I talk about this."

Rachel growls. She _actually_ growls, and then steps into the lift when it opens in front of her. She puts a hand out to stop him from following her inside. "No," she hisses. "Just, no."

He looks suitably chastised.

"I hope you like a Christmas in Lima," she mutters as the doors close between them. "It's bound to be an interesting one."

* * *

Hiram is in the kitchen when Rachel gets to the house. She's too irritated to bother with ringing the doorbell. It's still her home and she stands by that, so she walks right in and follows the sounds to the kitchen where she finds her father at the stove preparing something that doesn't much look like breakfast.

Hiram noticeably reacts when he sees her but recovers quickly. "Good morning," he says brightly.

"Good morning, Dad," she says, suddenly wary. He wasn't too happy with her the night before, but he _is_ smiling.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" he asks, eyeing her carefully. She doesn't look like she slept well, and his worry and guilt and concern and indignation all war within him. "There's some in the oven. Vegan, of course, because the meat-eaters already cleared me out."

Rachel smiles warmly at him, immensely relieved that he's not acting cold towards her. "Thanks," she says quietly as she goes about dishing a plate for herself. She opts against the substitute eggs - she _thinks_ she's feeling nauseous - but has some toast and beans while Hiram continues with his pots and pans. "Are you already making lunch?" she asks as she slides onto a stool at the breakfast nook.

"Mhmm," Hiram sounds. "This is going to the office, and then I've got a roast to prep for dinner."

Rachel frowns. "The office?"

Hiram spins to look at her, frowning slightly. When he remembers she doesn't know anything about their current lives, his frown gives way to morbid understanding. "Your father works in private practice now."

"He does?"

Hiram nods. "I know. It's surprising, isn't it? I still don't know how it even happened but I'm not complaining. His work hours are a little more _normal_ now, but he always forgets to take lunch with him. I hate when he goes across the street to the diner because it's so unhealthy."

"Daddy _has_ always been a sucker for cheeseburgers."

"Exactly." He grins at her, feeling a certain easiness settle into their interaction... which is wiped away in the very next moment.

"Wow," Santana says as she walks into the kitchen. "You're still here."

Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Good morning to you too, Santana."

She ignores the diva and heads to the fridge. "H?"

"Sweetheart?"

"B and I are going to pick up Les from the airport in a little while," she says. "Do you need anything from Columbus?"

"I've got a list."

"Cool."

Hiram hums in thought. "Why are _you_ fetching Les?"

"Puck, Sam, and S-squared are having a tournament of some sort," she answers with a shrug as she pulls a fresh plum out of the fridge and closes it. "I don't want to interrupt _that_ , and there are apparently people I have to avoid in this house."

Hiram bristles. "Santana."

She huffs in annoyance. "Have you heard from Q?"

"Just a text this morning," he answers, decidedly not looking at Rachel. "I think she probably would have dropped Mia off this morning, but..." he trails off, sounding older than he has in quite some time. "She took her to her after-school care instead."

Santana risks a smile. "Mia's teacher totally has a crush on her."

Hiram rolls his eyes - it's where they _all_ inherited it. "I think everyone in this whole damn town has a crush on Quinn Fabray."

Santana sends a dark look Rachel's way. "Well, not _everyone_ ," she says coldly, and then leaves the kitchen without another word.

Hiram sighs tiredly, his attention drifting back to Rachel, who looks as if she's trying to disappear right before his very eyes.

Well, she's not that lucky.

Not today.

"I expect you to apologise to Quinn for last night," Hiram says. "Your siblings are convinced she's not going to come for dinner tonight, and they're probably going to have your head if that happens."

Rachel just nods.

She _knows_.

"I know it can't be easy coming back like this," he says, his voice as gentle as he can manage at this time of day. "We _are_ happy to see you, Sweetheart. It's just… hard."

"I know," she whispers.

"It's always been a bitter pill to swallow," he admits. "I didn't think there would be a day that you would pick your career over us, when that was never something you had to do."

There are things Rachel can say to try to explain herself, but she's ten years too late, and she's sure her words mean nothing.

In leaving Quinn, she left them all.

She didn't really have much of a choice.

"I know," she says again. "I want things to work out."

"Start with Quinn, then."

She runs a tired hand through her hair. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do to _fix_ that," she admits. "It's doubtful she'll even _want_ to talk to me."

"It can't hurt to try," Hiram offers.

It isn't as if she hasn't already given it endless thought. Short of serenading Quinn; she's at a loss as to what to do to... make up for her behaviour last night. She knows that a bit more is required to balance the scales of the horrendous mess she left behind the day she decided to leave and never come back.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asks.

"I'm sure we can think of something."

* * *

"Guess who's here again."

Quinn straightens her back, hearing it pop, and looks to the doorway. The practice's receptionist, Edith Marx, is leaning against the doorframe with a sly smile on her face.

Quinn _knows_ that smile.

"Again?" she asks, exasperated. "I thought he would get the hint by now."

"He likes you," Edith says. "I mean, can you blame him for thinking he can wear you down?"

"I don't know how _those_ words can possibly bode for a successful relationship," she mutters, scribbling down the last few words on her most recent patient's chart, and then closing the file. She rises to her feet, popping and clicking along the way. "Are there any more patients to see?"

Edith nods her head. "Just Martha, Tom and Justin W," she says. "LeRoy's in with Olivia."

Quinn grimaces. "Did he totally take one for the team?"

"He told me to tell you Merry Christmas."

Quinn bursts out laughing as she walks around the desk she's commandeered and moves towards the door. "Is there that fancy cappuccino stuff?"

"Oh, honey, there's _always_ fancy stuff here," she says, taking the file from Quinn when she holds it out to her. "You should know that by now."

"Private practice is definitely the place to be," she quips, and then shakes her head.

Does she really mean that?

LeRoy has been trying to... poach her, as it were. She's enjoying her surgical residency in Toledo, but private practice _will_ offer her and Mia more stability. LeRoy has plans to expand the practice anyway, and he's looking for doctors.

Quinn doesn't yet know if it's what _she_ wants, though.

That part of her psyche has always been a little bit more difficult to grasp.

"It's what I've been trying to tell you," Edith says, spinning around and leading the way into the reception.

As expected, the waiting room houses Martha Winter, Tom Arnold and Justin Wang… as patients.

There's also Finn Hudson, William McKinley High School's football coach and show choir director, who is definitely not a patient. He's here to see Quinn, as is his routine now. Quinn found out from Edith that Finn's mother, Carole, who works in the diner across the street always calls to tell him if she sees Quinn's car parked in front of the practice.

And, now, here he is.

Finn practically jumps to his feet when he sees Quinn and his face spreads into the kind of smile that would make any girl other than Quinn swoon. She's just not interested in him that way, and she's been trying to let him down easy, citing reasons such as being busy and Mia. She knows she's going to have to make it clear to him because he doesn't seem to be getting the hint. It's just that he always looks so hopeful.

Edith is convinced she should just go for it. She thinks it wouldn't hurt to give him a chance.

It's a free meal, if nothing else.

Finn steps towards her when she reaches the front desk, going straight in for a hug, and she forces herself not to recoil. She's not very good at open affection, and they don't know each other nearly well enough.

Anyway.

"Hi, Quinn," he says, releasing her.

"Hey," she says, leaning against the front desk and ignoring Edith's knowingly smug _eyes_. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you were in the office," he says, "and I was wondering if you wanted to get a quick coffee with me. It doesn't have to take long. We can just go across the street."

Quinn sighs in silence, and Edith pokes her in the leg from behind the counter. She swats at the older woman's hand, and then looks at Finn. His eyes are playful, almost eager, and Quinn is so torn.

Gosh, when did she grow a heart?

Before Mia, she never would have even considered this.

"Just coffee?" she questions.

His foot taps and his eyes widen at the lack of immediate excuse. "I might get a slice of pie but, yes, just coffee."

Quinn actually smiles at the sound of that. "Okay, Finn," she says, exhaling, and he practically bounces on the spot. "I still have a few patients to see, so I - "

"They can wait," Edith says, and Quinn glares at her before looking towards the waiting room.

"We can wait," Martha says, and both Tom and Justin nod their heads. "Go on your 'just coffee' date. We'll be right here. I mean, none of us is dying, right?"

Again, Tom and Justin nod, and Quinn shoots death glares at all three of them.

What is it with this town and playing matchmaker?

It isn't even the first time Martha has pushed her towards dating.

"Shall we?" Finn says.

"Sure," she forces out. "Let me just grab my coat."

Now, she's been on a few dates since the disastrous end to her last serious relationship, but she's been picky and fussy because her heart has been broken by the only two people she fully allowed herself to love - in the romantic sense, at least. She's going to be very careful if she ever considers doing it a third time.

Finn is a gentleman, opening doors for her and placing a barely-there hand on the small of her back when they cross the road. He greets his mother - which goes a long way to settling some of Quinn's apprehension - and he leads them to a quiet booth. He takes her coat and waits for her to sit first.

He's a perfect gentleman, really.

They really do just have coffee.

Well, Quinn does, because he orders a slice of - suspiciously vegan - apple pie that comes with two forks. Her sweet tooth can't resist, and she steals a few bites, but he doesn't seem to mind. She suspects he knew exactly what he was doing. Carole even prepared the pie herself.

It's the first time Quinn considers that, if she were to let him, this man _could_ probably wear her down.

They don't really talk about much beyond her veganism, Mia and his plans for the football team. It's surface talk, but she appreciates it. It's 'just coffee' stuff and, when he asks if he can take her out again after he's seen to the check, she agrees.

Maybe Edith is right.

Maybe he deserves a chance.

Finn walks her back across the street, bravely kisses her cheek, and then ushers her into the warmth of the practice before he leaves. She's fully aware that she's smiling when she enters the waiting room, and Edith perks up at the sight of it.

"Well well, what do we have here?"

"Shut up," she mutters, removing her coat and hanging it up on the coat rack. "It was good coffee."

"I bet it was," Martha says from her seat.

Quinn spins to look at her. "Just because of that, I'm not going to warm up my stethoscope when I listen to your heart."

Martha exaggerates a gasp. "Dr Quinn, you wouldn't."

"Watch me," she teases, taking Martha's file from Edith when she hands it to her. "Come on back. Let's see what we can do for you today."

Like her every visit to the practice, Martha almost talks Quinn's ear right off as she conducts the consultation. She talks about her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She also talks about the various people she's been considering setting Quinn up with, both men and women, because it's widely accepted that Quinn Fabray is sexually fluid.

It's never been easy for LeRoy and Hiram, but their actions when it comes to homeless, needy children have built a reputation that goes beyond their sexual orientation.

And, really, there aren't enough doctors in this place.

People _love_ Quinn.

She makes it very easy.

And very difficult, all at the same time.

When Quinn is finished up with Martha, the two women make their way out to an empty waiting room. At Quinn's raised eyebrows, Edith immediately explains.

"LeRoy saw to Tom, and he's in with Justin right now."

"So," Quinn says; "I'm done?"

Edith laughs lightly. "Oh, Sweetheart, it isn't even lunch yet."

Quinn lets out a long-suffering groan, but she's smiling. Even if she complains, it's obvious she loves her job. "Appointments?"

"Three of them."

At this, Quinn groans again. "Do we know what?"

"I'll have all the files ready for you when you get back from lunch."

Quinn blinks. She hasn't even thought about lunch. She supposes she _could_ go across the street but she really doesn't want to see Carole Hudson again, in fear the woman asks her about what she thinks of her son. Quinn wouldn't even know what to say to her.

"I'm going to have lunch with Henry," Edith says. "If I don't, we both know he's going to eat a cheeseburger instead of the salad I packed for him."

Quinn just nods, stepping back to give her the space to maneuver. Edith's husband and LeRoy are the same that way. She wonders if LeRoy packed any leftovers from last night.

Maybe she can steal some because, really, what is she going to have for lunch?

She's sure she has a protein bar somewhere.

Is she even hungry?

"See you at two," Edith calls over her shoulder as she leaves, shooting Quinn a last smile.

When the door closes behind her, Quinn feels a flash of panic, which settles a beat later. She's okay. Everything is okay. She can worry about lunch now. Mia is fine. Everyone is fine. All she has to do is get through lunch, and then that -

As it happens, Quinn doesn't have to worry about lunch because it gets delivered right to the practice.

By Rachel.

The brunette seems as surprised to see Quinn as the blonde is to see her. Her footsteps falter as she enters the waiting room, and Quinn's expression falls immediately.

No.

Just, no.

"Hey," Rachel says carefully, taking cautious steps further into the reception. Her eyes are shifting from side to side, taking in all she can because this _is_ the first time she's been in her father's private practice.

In a moment, the mask slips onto Quinn's face and she smiles tightly. "Hello," she says, raising her eyebrows in question.

"Oh, umm, I brought… lunch," she says awkwardly. "Dad sent it for the office."

Quinn looks to the cooler in Rachel's hands, her stomach growling without her consent.

The edges of Rachel's mouth curve upwards slightly when she hears, making Quinn's cheeks bloom in a soft blush. "What are you doing here?" she asks.

"I work here," Quinn answers.

"Oh?" she sounds with a slight frown. "I thought you worked at… a hospital."

"I do," she answers. "I mean, I'm a surgical resident in Toledo, yes," she explains. "But I work here when I'm not there, and with Adrian out of town for the holidays; I'm taking on more hours."

If Rachel is surprised by how many words Quinn has actually said to her, she tries not to show it. "Adrian?"

"The other doctor here," she says, leaning against the counter and folding her arms across her chest. "Dr Adrian Fields. He's practically a dinosaur, but he's good people."

Rachel nods in understanding. "I didn't even know Dad was looking into private practice," she says conversationally.

Quinn bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something nasty. It's there, right on the tip of her tongue, just begging to be said. "It's been open for almost seven years," she says instead. "Adrian and LeRoy opened it together when Dr Parks died."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Dr Parks died?" she asks, horrified. Dr Ian Parks was her childhood doctor, responsible for dealing with her many sprained ankles and carpet burns.

Quinn blinks. "Uh, yeah," she says. "Cancer."

"Oh, God."

Quinn clears her throat. "The town was calling for a regular old general practitioner after that, and I guess Lee wanted to ease up on the pace of the ER. It all sort of fell together after that."

Rachel takes a breath, looking around the waiting area and reception. It's neatly and sparsely decorated, with a few fake plants and a small fish tank. Adrian's wife is responsible for the decor, and Quinn has to say it's functional but not that pretty. She would have done something completely different if she had the chance.

"Uh, do you want to sit?" Quinn asks. "Lee is still with a patient."

Neither of them makes a move, and Rachel rolls her lips together in contemplation.

"I want to apologise," she finally says.

"For what exactly?" Quinn asks, arching an eyebrow.

"For last night, mainly," she says, doing her best not to react to Quinn's signature move. She's always been particularly powerless to it. "I - I don't have an explanation for all of that, but I'm sorry. You definitely didn't deserve my attitude or anything I said."

Quinn is so not ready for any of this. "Um, okay."

Rachel smiles slightly at her awkwardness, and decides to give them both the out they need. Nothing is _okay_ , but they also don't have to hash it out right now. "So, food, huh? Are you hungry?"

"Sure, let's pretend you haven't been hearing my stomach start its own marching band this entire time," Quinn quips with a roll of her eyes.

Rachel offers her the first genuine smile she's managed to muster, and the two of them settle on the chairs in the waiting area. Rachel opens the cooler and retrieves container after container, and Quinn eagerly digs into the vegan stir fry Hiram apparently marked for her.

"That's _so_ good," she moans, closing her eyes for a beat.

Rachel is momentarily transfixed. She didn't really allow herself to _look_ at Quinn the night before, and she's slightly taken aback by the _woman_ before her. The last time she saw her, Quinn was a sixteen-year-old _girl_ , and now she's grown into this accomplished young doctor with a family and career of her own.

She's also... stunning.

Blinding, really.

There's such an easy grace about her that didn't used to be there, and Rachel can't help but stare.

"Aren't you eating?" Quinn asks after a few minutes of practically wolfing down her food - Hiram has always known how to get her to eat. How she manages to make even that look graceful is beyond Rachel.

Rachel presses her lips together. "I had breakfast about an hour ago," she says. "I'm not yet hungry."

With that, they descend into a silence that's both comfortable and uncomfortable. Rachel fidgets, which is a nasty habit she picked up when she left home. For months after she arrived in New York, she constantly looked over her shoulder as if she were expecting to see someone from Lima.

To see Quinn.

But, Quinn never came.

One year became two, and Quinn still didn't arrive in New York, and it's not something Rachel is comfortable talking about.

So, she fidgets... and then asks terrible, uncomfortable questions.

"So, Mia?"

Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "What about Mia?"

Rachel blinks. "She's - she's beautiful, Quinn."

Quinn automatically smiles. "I wish I could take all the credit," she says, chuckling lightly; "but her father is rather easy on the eyes."

Rachel must know Quinn has offered her an opening, and she's always going to take it. It might have been ten years, but there are just some things that could and would not ever be able to be easily discussed. It's up to them to make it work. "Who is he?" she asks softly.

Quinn meets her gaze for only a moment, her facial expression giving nothing away. "His name is Cooper Harris," she says carefully. "I met him at a music festival in Columbus over Spring Break my senior year of Undergrad. We hit it off immediately and I spent the entire summer after graduation with him, here in Lima and in Columbus. We even went to Cincinnati. He does a bit of travelling for his work." She pauses, unsure what more she can say on the subject.

Cooper is a... sore topic, and she doesn't usually talk about him.

It's even weirder talking about her one ex to her other.

If she and Rachel can even be considered that.

They barely had a relationship.

"Do you share custody?" Rachel asks, steering them back to Mia because it's obvious to her that Quinn is already feeling conflicted.

"We do," she says. "I'm the primary parent because he moves around the state a lot, but he's very involved in her life. As much as he can be, at least."

Rachel nods in understanding, even though she can't say she actually _does_. As far as her own family goes, _she_ hasn't suffered through a broken home. Not like Quinn or Santana or Noah or any of the Evans kids. Rachel has always had her fathers... until her self-imposed isolation, that is. She imagines it eats away at Quinn that she's been unable to give her daughter the kind of familial stability she could only dream about as a child.

"Mia seems... happy," Rachel whispers, trying to reassure Quinn in a way that won't overwhelm the blonde.

"Yeah?" Quinn smiles and it's actually a genuine one. "I worry about that. More than I care to admit."

"I haven't seen much, but you seem to be doing a good job."

Quinn's gaze meets hers and there's obviously something she wants to say but she holds her tongue. Whatever it is must not be pretty because Rachel knows Quinn has never been one to shy away from using her tongue to cut people down.

It was always a terrible turn on for Rachel.

Rachel clears her throat, pushing away those thoughts. "So, you're a vegan?"

Quinn chuckles lightly. "Well, I was a vegetarian first," she explains. "After my accident, I couldn't really - "

"Wait," Rachel says; "what accident?"

Quinn blinks, momentarily caught off guard. Rachel doesn't know, and it's such a stark reminder of just how long it's been since they've seen each other. "Wow, okay," she says. "I was in a car accident my senior year of high school."

Rachel just stares, wide-eyed.

"It was a pretty terrible year all around, really," the blonde mumbles. "Anyway, my jaw was kind of wired shut and I was on a liquid diet for weeks, and I don't know, I liked the vegetables, I guess. I became a full vegan when I was pregnant with Mia. I cite health issues but I think it was because dairy was just making me crazy nauseous."

"I never would have guessed the girl who practically _inhaled_ bacon would become a vegan."

"Well, a lot has changed in the past ten years."

Rachel sighs quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly. "It - it was a bad accident?"

Quinn nods. "I suffered a spinal injury and I couldn't be on the squad anymore, so I focused on my studies instead, and then graduated my way right out of this place and headed straight to - "

"Harvard."

Quinn's eyebrows rise.

"I spent a lot of time looking at all the new pictures in the house," she confesses. "That's amazing, Quinn."

"Yeah."

It's painfully quiet for the longest time, both of them trying desperately not to think about _that_ time when Quinn was just a nothing-girl and Rachel was destined for so much more. Quinn proved them all wrong, and she still doesn't know how she's supposed to feel about it.

For so many years of her life, she was looked at as if she meant nothing - by her own family and then her peers. Coming to live with the Berry family was the best thing ever to happen to her and, yes, in her youth, she was a bit lost, but she finally found her way.

She found her way, and now her life is infinitely better.

Breathing out, Quinn refocuses on her lunch and cleans out the entire container. Rachel can't help her smile at the deeply-satisfied look on her face. She's always been a foodie, even if she's struggled with the very _idea_ of food.

"Do you - " Rachel starts, and then stops when the door to the practice opens.

"Is that…?" a voice suddenly says, and both Rachel and Quinn look towards Edith, who's practically thundering into the waiting room. "Oh, my God! Rachel?"

Rachel is almost bashful as she stands and moves towards the older woman she remembers as her very first piano teacher. "Edith, hello," she says. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm well," Edith says, coming to a stop. "I didn't expect to see you here. LeRoy didn't even tell me you were home." Edith gives Quinn a pointed look. "And, you, missy, why didn't you say?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow, and Edith looks away in understanding.

Why _would_ Quinn willingly bring up Rachel in any conversation?

She isn't _that_ much of a masochist.

"What are you doing here?" Edith asks Rachel, and Quinn uses the opportunity to tune out and focus on cleaning up the remains of her lunch. She sets aside a container for LeRoy, which she'll have to sneak into his office. His entire lunch hour is being eaten away by a patient.

Quinn pays zero attention to the conversation the two of them are having as she _does_ end up delivering LeRoy's food to him. When she returns to the waiting area, Edith and Rachel are seated together and, well, she's a little wary of interrupting. She does anyway, quietly thanking Rachel for bringing her lunch, and then she disappears into her temporary office in an attempt to recover from her interaction with the brunette woman about whom she's actively had to force herself to stop thinking.

She finds it exhausting.

And it _really_ doesn't help when Edith brings her up to Quinn the first opportunity she can.

"So, Rachel's back," Edith says in that completely _not_ subtle way of hers as she delivers patient files to Quinn. "How do you feel about that?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Edie, you do know I have a therapist already, right?"

Edith nods.

She _does_ know.

She's seen how everything Quinn has been through has affected her over the years. It was Quinn's own decision to seek professional help after everything that happened in her senior year of high school. Truthfully, Edith doesn't know how Quinn even lasted as long as she did without completely losing it. But, she's much more settled now, sure and grounded. Edith wouldn't go so far as to believe she's happy, but she's not sad.

Edith shudders to think about what Rachel's return is going to do to her.

"Quinn," Edith says quietly, and the worry is clear to head in her voice.

"I'm okay," Quinn says, barely looking up from the new files. "I was shocked, even a little stunned, but I'm over it now. She's here, and I'm okay."

"Are you, really?"

Quinn's silence is an answer enough.

* * *

When Rachel gets back to the house, she finds Jesse sitting in the living room, alone, with a cup of some hot beverage in his hands. She takes one hard look at him, and then continues walking into the house, intent on... hiding. She wants nothing more than to charge into the living room and demand he leaves but she just doesn't have the energy or fight to have another conversation with her... boyfriend.

As far as she knows, they _are_ still together, even though they both left New York separately and not talking to each other.

Rachel finds herself in LeRoy's empty study, taking in its familiarity and _hating_ it. She's never really liked this room because of the memories she has attached to it. The good ones are from when she was younger, sitting on her father's lap and colouring while he read over his paperwork.

She remembers playing hide and seek with Noah and Santana, and she remembers having deep meaningful conversations with Quinn. This is the room she and the blonde had their first kiss, and this is the room she realised she was in love with a girl with whom she had no intention of staying.

But, most importantly, it's the room in which she and LeRoy had the very conversation that saw her leaving Lima and returning only ten years later.

Rachel walks right back out of the room, forcing herself not to think about it. She would do well not to go down that path of thought, so long as she remained in this house. It'd be easier to handle elsewhere, but completely unbearable here.

 _Here_.

Her home that doesn't feel anything like the house in which she grew up. It isn't as if she expected that life wouldn't go on without her, but she just wasn't expecting to feel so out of sorts about it.

Rachel's musing is interrupted by sounds coming from the entrance hall and, as quietly as she can, she makes her way towards the front of the house to find a mass group of people excitedly greeting a woman she's never seen before. She immediately knows the woman is Leslie, though, and she's nothing and everything she imagined for Noah. She's quite petite, no taller than Rachel or Santana, with grey eyes and dark hair. There's something exotic about her, stunning in her own right, and Rachel absolutely loves her from the moment they meet.

"Rachel, this is Leslie, my oh-so-fine girlfriend," Noah says, introducing them. "Les, meet Rachel, H and Lee's daughter."

Rachel does her best not to react to the way he describes her. It's what she is, isn't it? She's... _not_ his sister, and it stings. "Hi, Leslie," she says politely. "It's lovely to meet you."

Leslie regards her for a moment before her face splits into a grin. "Well, hello, Rachel," she says brightly, dragging the other woman into a warm hug. "I have heard so much about you."

Rachel is substantially bewildered when she's released. "You have?"

"Of course."

There's such sincerity in her eyes, and it settles something deep in Rachel's gut. For some reason, she thought they would have forgotten about her or just ignored her existence entirely.

But, the fact that Leslie - who's new to the fold - knows about her _means_ something.

Even if everything Leslie's been told is _bad_.

But, the woman is smiling at her, so it can't be _all_ bad.

Surely.

Or, maybe she's just good at pretending... the way Rachel is.

The way they all are.

* * *

"Hi, baby," Quinn says, opening her arms to embrace Mia as she runs straight at her. "How's my favourite four-year-old?"

Mia mumbles something into Quinn's coat, but Quinn guesses her response. Mia pulls back suddenly and smiles widely at her mother. "George and Lily took _forever_ to wake up from nap time," she says, and Quinn laughs lightly.

"Is that so?" she asks, straightening and taking hold of Mia's one hand. "I hope you didn't wake them?"

She shakes her head, moving her entire body. "Miss Williams did," she says.

At the sound of that, Quinn looks towards the front of the only Lima after-school care Quinn even remotely trusts and, indeed, Miss Gina Williams is standing in the doorway and smiling at them. She waves at Mia… and Quinn, and both blondes wave back.

"She likes you," Mia says, when Quinn tugs her away.

Quinn chuckles lowly. Oh, she _knows_.

"We go see Unca Puck?" Mia asks, sliding along the sidewalk while Quinn practically drags her towards the car.

Quinn, admittedly, isn't up for seeing Rachel again. She's certain she's reached her quota for one day, but she doesn't want to disappoint Mia or the rest of her family.

There's also a part of her that doesn't want them to be able to blame Rachel for her absence.

"We are, baby," Quinn tells her.

"And then we go shop for pwesents?"

"We'll try to make it for the day after tomorrow, Mia," she says; "It's too late now."

At that, Mia pouts, and it's literally the most adorable thing Quinn has ever seen. It actually isn't fair at all that her face is even capable of looking that cute.

Really, Quinn Fabray is definitely in for it if ever Mia realises the true extent of her powers.

* * *

"Why are you still here?"

The last thing Rachel wants is to engage Jesse in any conversation, but _her_ presence is already enough to derail the family dynamic, and Jesse's ongoing _intrusion_ isn't helping anyone. Rachel definitely doesn't want him still to be here when Quinn arrives. She imagines it must feel like a constant slap in the face having him here and, for once, Rachel agrees with Santana.

Jesse has to go.

Now.

"I told you I'm not leaving until we talk," Jesse says.

Rachel forces herself to take a calming breath. It definitely wouldn't do to blow up at him while there are so many people in the house. "And I told you that I don't _want_ to talk," she says. "I've said all I want to say, and so have you. Please can you just leave."

"Rachel," he pleads, rising to his feet. "We _haven't_ talked about this properly. There are still so many things we have to discuss."

"There's nothing to discuss," she dismisses.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Acting as if none of this is happening," he says. "You ran away here to get away from it, but it isn't just going to go away unless you actually _make_ it go away."

Her eyes narrow in defiance. "This is my home," she says strongly. "You are unwelcome here. Why is it that men can't take a fucking hint?"

Jesse's response is cut off by the sound of the front door opening and an excited squeal echoing around the house. When the sound dies down, Jesse just smiles. It's obvious that Quinn is here. Nobody else can garner that type of reaction. "We still have _so much_ to talk about," he finally says.

Rachel is too exhausted to argue, and she's not willing to let her family in on her relationship drama. Even the little bit that Hiram knows is too much.

So, with a sigh, she spins on her heel and disappears from the living room, just as there's more happy shouts of greeting.

* * *

"Quinn!"

"Leslie!"

"Oi, hands off my woman, Fabray!" Noah shouts from the living room.

Quinn just laughs as she pulls out of Leslie's embrace, their eyes meeting. "It's really good to see you, Les," she says sincerely. "We need another sane person around here."

"Hey!" Noah calls out, and both women just laugh at his expense.

Leslie pulls Quinn into another hug, and then releases her to give her full attention to Mia. Leslie loves Mia. Well, _everyone_ loves Mia, but there's something _more_ when it comes to Leslie. Quinn knows and understands the truth of it because Quinn is one of the only people Leslie confided in about being unable to bear children. She broke down in the blonde's arms, revealing her fears that Noah wouldn't want to be with her anymore.

Quinn called her a silly woman that day, because Noah would _never_ do that, and the man has been proving her right ever since. In fact, she's been bugging him to take the next step for a while now, and she thinks she's just about worn him down. It's time for Noah Puckerman to rise and become the man she knows he truly is, and is always going to be.

"Tell me all about your day," Leslie says, and Mia immediately starts telling the tales of her _super busy_ day as the two of them head to the kitchen.

"No sugar," Quinn calls out.

"Whatever, _Mom_ ," Leslie says back, waving a dismissive hand.

Quinn shakes her head, and spots Noah standing in the archway to the living room. "Your girl is the reason I'm going to have a tyrant of a teenage daughter."

He chuckles lightly. "It takes a village, Sweetheart."

Quinn rolls her neck to look at him properly. "I've missed you, Puckerman."

At the sound of that, he crosses the space between them and engulfs her in the type of hug she desperately needs. Having Rachel here - with her boyfriend - and dealing with Finn and work and the holidays and Cooper is taking its toll, and she just needs a hug from her big brother.

"I'm so glad you're home," Quinn mumbles into his shirt.

"Me too," he murmurs, tightening his grip.

Even though she's the sister he's known the least amount of time, he's always felt closest to her. As if, in another life, they could have _been_ something. It's not a feeling he's ever voiced aloud - it would probably just be awkward for everybody - but he holds onto it from time to time. It makes him feel as if he was put on this Earth, in this specific universe, for a very important reason.

To give Quinn Fabray these sorts of hugs.

Noah chuckles at his own thoughts, and Quinn pulls away, perplexed. "Everything okay?"

"It's just good to be home," he says in response, grinning at her. "How are you, by the way?"

"I've been better," she admits; "but I've also been worse, so I'm not complaining."

"Can I complain _for_ you?" he whines. "That guy, Jesse, is a complete asshat. How the fuck am I supposed to know he was in _The Addams' Family_ , or whatever fucking Broadway show he was singing about?"

Despite the mention of Rachel's boyfriend, Quinn finds herself smiling at Noah's antics. "Does he know who you are?"

"Are you kidding? _Everybody_ knows who I am."

Quinn chuckles. "He has no clue, does he?"

"Apparently, he doesn't _watch_ sports."

"Dick."

"Fucking prick."

They share a laugh before he pulls her into another hug. "It's going to be okay, you know that, right?" he murmurs into her hair.

"Promise?" she asks softly, sounding like the fourteen-year-old she was when they first met.

"I promise," he assures her. "I promise."

For whatever reason, Quinn is inclined to believe him.

* * *

"The roast is almost done," Hiram declares, walking into the living room where most of the family has _finally_ congregated. Select few are missing - LeRoy, Quinn, Leslie, Rachel and Mia - but he's choosing not to dwell on that. "We're looking at another fifteen minutes, tops. Think you can entertain yourselves in the mean time?"

Santana rolls her eyes. "Oh, please, H," she scoffs. "We've been finding ways to entertain ourselves since we were in diapers."

"So, since last year," Noah quips, and she punches his arm, hard. "Hey," he complains as he massages his aching tricep. "Don't hurt the moneymakers. I work hard for these babies."

Santana fakes another punch, and then cackles when he flinches. "I've still got it."

Sam shakes his head. "It's times like these I truly wonder how we're related."

There's a beat of silence before they all burst out laughing.

Well, everyone but Jesse.

* * *

"So, what's this I hear about your going on a coffee date with Finn Hudson?"

Quinn almost chokes on the coffee going down her throat. "Jesus, Leslie," she hisses as she coughs violently. "Warn a woman, would you?"

Leslie shrugs unapologetically. "So, you're dating?"

"No," she replies, reaching for a paper napkin on the coffee table in front of her. "We're not _dating_. God, what are you, twelve?"

Leslie just raises her eyebrows expectantly.

"How did you even find out about that?" Quinn asks. "It happened literally _today_ , and you arrived _today_."

"I'm a resourceful woman," she replies.

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Edith told you, didn't she?"

Leslie ignores her. "Now, give me details. What happened? Is he nice? Did you kiss?"

Quinn stares at her for the longest time. "Wow, you really _are_ twelve, aren't you?"

Leslie lets out a loud laugh before she sips at her own coffee. The two of them are huddled on the couch in LeRoy's study, carefully avoiding the mayhem going on outside in favour of having a catch-up chat. They talk quite frequently over the phone, with Leslie placing most of the calls to counter the boredom of being an uninspired and unmotivated painter while Quinn just tries to keep up with her crazy schedule. "I've missed you."

"You've missed Mia."

"I have," she says. "More than you, definitely." Then, after a beat of silence, she says, "But I really have missed you. How are you, Quinn?"

And Quinn instantly deflates, which prompts Leslie to set her coffee down and wrap her arms around her friend. They're the same age but, at times, it feels as if Quinn is decades older than all of them. It's as if she carries the years as a weight on her shoulders, the experiences a heavy burden that she's never been able to unload.

"I've got you," Leslie says, gently rubbing Quinn's back. "You're okay. Mia's okay. Everything is going to be okay."

They're powerful words to Quinn because, for too many days than she'd care to admit, she's struggled to believe that _anything_ would ever be okay again. It feels as if she's been fighting her entire life and, for just a little while, she wished for a reprieve.

All of that has been completely derailed by Rachel's arrival.

She's had to fight constantly, and it's impossible to see an end.

Quinn could almost 'convince' herself she was fine, so long as she didn't have to deal with the deep-rooted _hurt_ that came with any thoughts of Rachel Berry. She's never really talked to Leslie about everything that happened, but she suspects the woman has been able to piece bits and pieces together.

It's simple, really.

Quinn came to live with the Berry family.

Quinn did the completely disastrous thing and decided it was a good idea to fall in love with her foster sister.

Quinn then proceeded to _pursue_ said foster sister.

Quinn got repeatedly rejected.

Quinn finally _wasn't_ rejected.

Quinn was overwhelmed by the sheer euphoria of the mere concept of _finally_.

Quinn was rudely and painfully dropped back down to earth.

Quinn has been doing everything she possibly can to escape the turmoil of her teenage heartbreak.

Quinn is constantly failing.

Totally simple.

Right?

* * *

"Excuse me?"

Rachel startles at the little voice, and she looks down to where Mia is staring up at her, eyes wide and smile large. "Hello," Rachel says, absently looking around the kitchen for some... help, or guidance, just _something_. "Is everything okay?"

Mia gives her a once-over, and Rachel feels exposed. Well, yes, this is _definitely_ Quinn Fabray's daughter. "Why does nobody like you?"

Rachel swallows nervously, suddenly unsure how she's supposed to answer this direct question. She doesn't want to lie, and she definitely can't tell a four-year-old the sordid details of her and Quinn's brief affair. Eventually, she decides on: "I did something bad a long time ago. They still haven't forgiven me."

Mia seems to consider this. "Did you say sowwy?" she asks. "Mommy says you have to say sowwy if you do something bad, and you haff to mean it or it won't count."

"Your mommy sounds like a smart lady."

"She is," Mia declares, making a tiny fist in the air with her right hand. "She's a doctor."

Rachel finds herself smiling. "Do you also want to be a doctor when you grow up?"

Mia shakes her head immediately, scrunching up her face adorably. "I don't wike bwood."

Rachel blinks. "You don't like blood?"

"That's what I said."

Rachel bites her bottom lip to stop her chuckle. Mia just looks so serious, right now, and it's probably the most adorable thing she's ever seen. "Well, I don't like blood either." She relaxes slightly. "So, if you don't want to be a doctor, what do you want to be?"

Mia seems to ponder it, her thinking face so terribly cute that Rachel wants to pinch herself. This is Quinn's daughter. _Quinn_ has a baby girl, and it's constantly blowing Rachel's mind. She's always imagined what Quinn looked like as a child - Quinn doesn't have anything from her early childhood - and she feels as if she's looking at a mini-Quinn.

"I think, today, I want to be a shepherd," Mia eventually says.

Rachel raises an eyebrow. "A shepherd?"

Mia nods. "But, for lambs," she says. "They're my favourite."

A smile blooms across Rachel's face. "Quinn also likes lambs."

Mia gives her a look that says 'duh,' and Rachel feels thoroughly chastised by a _four-year-old_. "She likes sea turtles more now," Mia says and, yes, it's almost sad the way Rachel almost greedily latches onto anything and everything she can learn about Quinn without actually having to talk to the blonde. "What's your favourite animal?"

"Ferrets."

It isn't Rachel who responds, but rather Quinn, who's just entering the kitchen with two empty coffee cups in her hands.

Mia's brow furrows. "What is a... ferret?" she asks, looking up at Rachel.

Rachel falters, suddenly unsure how to talk to Mia with Quinn standing _right there_.

Mia frowns, and then looks at Quinn. "Mommy?"

Quinn rinses the cups in the sink, and then places them in the dishwasher. "Let's see," she finally says, walking towards Mia and Rachel. "A ferret is like a mix between a cat and a weasel."

"Oh."

"Do you want to see a picture?" Quinn asks.

At Mia's nod, she takes out her phone and _Googles_ an image of a ferret.

Mia eagerly looks at the screen, and then squeals. "They're so cute!"

Quinn shoots an amused look at Rachel. "My kid better not ask me for a ferret for Christmas, Berry," she says, and Rachel just about manages a smile. Quinn looks back down at Mia, gently smoothing a hand over her soft hair. "You ready for dinner, baby?"

Mia looks hopefully at her. "Bowl?"

Quinn sighs, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She's trying desperately _not_ to teach her daughter that nasty little habit. "Sure thing, Sweets." She looks at Rachel, who's nervously biting her bottom lip. "Don't tell me you also want to eat out of a bowl."

Rachel shrugs. "I don't know, Quinn," she says; "Mia might be on to something."

* * *

Dinner goes... surprisingly okay.

It helps that there are new people to steal the attention, and Leslie basks in it, willingly giving Quinn some respite. It looks as if the blonde has been under everyone's collective radar for more time than either Quinn or Leslie is comfortable with, and Leslie's happy to do _anything_ to help with that.

The two of them have a certain... connection that nobody in the family has truly been able to understand.

Leslie is even Mia's godmother.

Santana is the other.

Even though Quinn and the Latina have had a... tumultuous relationship, they love each other fiercely. Like, go-to-the-ends-of-the-earth, take-a-bullet-for-you kind of love that doesn't come around very often. _Their_ relationship is even weirder, in general, because they _have_ been known to throw a few punches.

"Mommy?" Mia _attempts_ to whisper to Quinn, and conversation around the table momentarily falters.

Quinn doesn't pay any attention to that as her eyes drop to Mia. "What's up, Sweets?"

"Can I go watch cartoons?"

Quinn peeks into Mia's bowl. "I thought we had a deal," she says. "All the broccoli for cartoons. I still see some green trees in there."

Mia pouts. "But I don't wanna," she complains, folding her arms across her little chest.

Quinn sighs, and Sam does his best not to laugh. Well, a lot of them are trying not to laugh, actually. "You agreed to the deal," Quinn reminds Mia. "Eat your broccoli or there's no cartoons."

Mia looks like she's about to argue again, but Quinn snubs her.

"Eat your broccoli," she says, and there's such a no-nonsense, full-on- _mom_ tone to her voice that brokers no disputing. Her expression is kind, but the words are serious, and even four-year-old Mia _knows_ when to pick her battles.

After a beat, Mia is reluctantly eating the rest of her broccoli, and Quinn returns to her own dinner.

The first person to speak is Santana. "That was totally hot," she says, and Quinn shoots her an incredulous look.

"It totally was," Brittany says, echoing her wife.

Quinn just shakes her head, flushing under the scrutiny. "Eat your vegetables," she grumbles to the both of them, decidedly _not_ looking at Rachel.

* * *

"Will you drop off Mia with me tomorrow?" Hiram asks as he helps Quinn with her coat.

Quinn peeks into the living room where Mia is asleep on Noah's chest, drooling mercilessly. Noah doesn't seem to mind, and it's actually a rather cute picture. Leslie already snapped about a thousand already. Quinn expects she'll receive a painting of it one of these days.

"I have nothing going on, you know," Hiram continues. "I'd enjoy the company."

Quinn sighs. "Who else is going to be around?" she asks.

Hiram pauses. "I don't know."

"I'll think about it," Quinn eventually says. "I'll call you in the morning."

Hiram just nods. If that's the best he's going to get, he's going to take it, even though he suspects she's _not_ going to take him up on his offer. It's always been a bit difficult with Quinn. She's deeply personal and immensely guarded.

When she first arrived, they did well to... get through to her.

And then, after everything that happened with Rachel, she closed off completely.

Sometimes, Hiram looks at her and has to acknowledge it's a miracle she's here at all. She could have taken off and _never_ come back to this place - her _home_ \- and he's forever grateful every time she steps through the door.

"Please don't be a stranger," Hiram says, somewhat unnecessarily.

Quinn's smile is a sad one. "I love you too much for that, H."

"You better."

Quinn draws him into an impromptu hug, which surprises the much older man. She's never _really_ been one for physical affection, but he knows not to question it. If she's seeking comfort, then she must really need it.

Quinn releases him after a long moment, and then goes into the living room to collect her precious cargo, all the time not meeting his gaze.

Hiram sighs.

Baby steps and all that, he supposes.

* * *

As soon as Quinn leaves, Rachel wants to, as well. It's quite late, and she suspects that her siblings have been on their best behaviour _because_ of Quinn's presence. With her gone, Rachel worries if they're going to have something to say about the way she acted the night before.

It's funny.

Almost.

Rachel is so worried about her family, that she actually _forgets_ about Jesse.

She just manages to say her goodnights, receiving hugs from Hiram, LeRoy, Stacey and, curiously, Brittany, and step out the front door before she's practically accosted by her (sort of) boyfriend. He follows her to her car, badgering her about the _thing_ they need to discuss.

"It's not a _thing_ ," she snaps at him, spinning around and levelling him with such fury, he almost slips in the snow. "I _don't want_ to talk to you. Why can't you get that into your thick skull?"

Jesse bristles. "You're acting like a child."

Rachel's eyes narrow. " _I'm_ the one acting like a child here? Wow. That's rich."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're practically sulking," she says. "I'm not _ready_ to discuss any of this with you. Why can't you just respect that? I came here to _get away from you_ , and you think everything is going to be magically fixed just because you deigned to _come after me_."

"We need to talk."

"Unless you plan on breaking up with me tonight, there is _absolutely_ nothing to talk about."

Jesse's nostrils flare. "You're acting like a child," he says again. "What? Don't you even want me involved?"

"Not when you're being unreasonable."

"You aren't even thinking of your career!"

" _My_ career is _none_ of your concern!"

"Yes, it is!"

"Why?" she screams. "Why is _my_ career so important to _you_?"

Jesse falters.

"That's what I thought," she says. "Forgive me if I don't want to have this particular conversation with you right now. Or, ever, really." With that, she turns and resumes her walk to her car. God, she's exhausted.

She needs sleep and... more sleep.

She also needs answers.


	3. Old Friends

**Part Three**

 **Old Friends**

* * *

"Quinn?"

For a moment, the blonde in question freezes, but she recovers quickly enough and spins around to face Rachel in the doorway to Adrian's office. "Hey," she says, offering a small smile. "What are you doing here?"

Rachel drops her gaze for a moment, nervously wringing her hands together. "You're a doctor," she says, and Quinn waits. "I'm a… patient."

Quinn frowns. Where is she going with this?

"I was wondering if you could run some tests on me," she says. "And, possibly, _not_ tell my fathers about it."

Quinn's heart is suddenly thundering in her chest, and her grip tightens on the file in her hands. Shit. Is this why she's come home? Is she sick or something? "What kind of tests?"

Rachel finally looks up, meeting her gaze. "Tests of the… pregnancy variety."

Quinn feels all the air leave her lungs, and she makes a strangled sound in her throat. "You're pregnant?"

Rachel steps further into the office and closes the door behind her. Even though they both know the practice is blessedly empty for lunch, this still feels like a private conversation. "I don't know," she says, almost whispering. "I've tested five times and received three positives and two negatives, so I don't know. I just - " she stops suddenly. "I think I want to know for sure, and then - " she stops again, tears springing to her eyes.

Quinn immediately moves towards her, hoping her proximity can offer some kind of comfort. "Hey, Rachel, no," she tries to soothe, thoroughly uncomfortable with a crying Rachel Berry. "We can run the tests, okay? Come with me. Take a seat." Quinn manages to maneuver her to the examination bed, and Rachel hops on, her feet dangling like a small child. For a moment, Quinn smiles at the sight, but it falls away as quickly as it appears.

Rachel might be pregnant.

 _Jesus_.

"Is this why you're home?" Quinn casually asks, busying herself with preparing the apparatus to draw the required blood for the tests she intends to run.

Rachel rolls her lips together. "Partly," she admits quietly. "I _wanted_ to come home after my contract expired on _Wicked_ but Kurt - he's my manager - managed to convince me to do a month of special concerts to promote the release of my new album. After that, Jesse got… fired, and he was sad and I couldn't just leave him, and then I had a lot of press for the album, and I started to feel… unwell. Jesse and I were already having problems because of my success and his unemployment, and I thought it was just the stress, you know? It's hard work, and I just needed a break.

"So, I decided to take it, and, when I realised how _late_ I was, I panicked. Big time. I mean, I've had my plan set out for years, Quinn. This was never how it was supposed to happen. I'm supposed to be married by now, happy and in love, and how am I supposed to bring an actual human being into this world when I can barely hold onto my own sanity half the time?"

Quinn has no idea what to say to her, so she just puts on her one glove and steps towards her… patient. She knows Rachel doesn't like needles, so she knows she has to distract the diva. "Does Jesse know?" she asks, reaching for Rachel's arm and rolling up her sleeve to gain access to the necessary veins in the crook of her elbow.

Rachel laughs humourlessly, suitably distracted from Quinn's movements. "Does he know," she echoes. "I told him, yes. I told him I think I'm pregnant, especially after three positive results, and the man freaked the fuck out."

Quinn can't really remember a time when she's heard Rachel cuss like that - well, when she's not fighting with Santana, that is.

"I mean, honest to God, _freakout,_ Quinn," she continues. "He turned beet red and started sprouting out all these things about his future and his career and how we aren't even married and how this was all going to affect _him_."

Quinn clenches her jaw, hating Jesse just that bit more. At least, when she found out she was pregnant with Mia, Cooper immediately packed up his things and moved to Boston to be with her. There was never an option for him.

"And, for the most part, I can understand his freakout," she says.

Quinn ties the strap around Rachel's upper arm. "Make a fist."

Rachel easily complies. "I mean, I had my own freakout because, I mean, I'm Rachel Berry. I wouldn't be me if I didn't, but then…" she trails off, and Quinn forces herself to focus on finding the perfect vein. "Children have _never_ been in his plan," she eventually says; "but they've always been in mine. I thought - I thought I knew that about him, but I learned a hell of a lot more about him in that short hour than I have in the seven months we've been tog - _ow_."

Quinn shoots her a disbelieving look. "That didn't hurt," she quietly admonishes.

Rachel pouts. "Okay, it didn't."

Quinn offers her a smile as she fills two vials for testing - just to be safe - and then grabs a small cotton ball. Carefully, she removes the butterfly needle and immediately covers the puncture with the cotton, applying pressure. "Hold that there," she says, and proceeds to finish cleaning up. If Rachel _isn't_ pregnant and is still feeling unwell, then maybe there's something _else_ wrong.

Quinn can't decide which she would rather have.

Here's hoping Rachel is just anaemic or something.

Rachel watches her in silence, marvelling at the sheer _strength_ of Quinn. It isn't even just in her physical appearance, but it's in the way she carries herself and the way she just _is_. Rachel can admit to missing her something fierce and, just being here, she's hit by the familiar feeling that she never wants to leave. It's a dangerous feeling.

Quinn places the vials in a medical plastic, fills in the necessary forms and seals it. "I've given you an alias," she says, grinning. "Fanny Brice."

Rachel _has_ to laugh at that.

"I'll have to run them to the lab," she says; "and we should have definitive results by... actually, I don't know when. It's the holidays, so I imagine things will be a little slow. Shit, the labs might even close for the holidays. It'll probably be a skeleton crew."

Rachel hums softly, nodding her head.

Quinn sets the blood aside and retrieves a _Barbie_ plaster from one of the drawers. Without asking for permission, she replaces the cotton with the Band-Aid, and Rachel offers her a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you," she breathes.

Quinn stares at her face for a moment, unsure what to say. "Are you going to be okay?" she eventually asks.

"I don't know," she confesses quietly, and she bravely reaches for one of Quinn's hands. She hears the blonde's breath hitch, but neither of them pulls away from the contact. "I've gone through every single scenario in my head, and it's driving me a little crazy, to be honest. I'm exhausted and my emotions are all over the place and Santana hates me and Jesse is irritating me and you - " she stops suddenly.

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Me?"

Despite herself, Rachel blushes and ducks her head to hide it.

"Me what?" Quinn presses, using her free hand to lift Rachel's chin. "What about me, Rachel?"

"You are… _you_ ," she says.

"So eloquent," Quinn teases lightly, letting her fingers linger on Rachel's jawline for longer than strictly necessary, but she does eventually move them away. "What's on your mind?"

Rachel blinks rapidly. "Did you ever… consider your options?" she asks.

Quinn frowns for a moment before she comprehends. "With regards to Mia, you mean?"

Rachel nods.

"As a medical student at the time, I was aware of all the options, but I didn't _consider_ them," she answers. "I mean, I knew it was going to be difficult. I was a freshman, living in Boston by myself, and I did have options… but being without Mia was never one of them. I could have dropped out, or I could have gone to a school closer to home, but I didn't have to do any of those. I know everyone talks about Cooper as if he's some monster in this whole situation, but he's not. He might be a shitty romantic partner, but he's always been an amazing father to Mia. When I told him I was pregnant, he had his expected freakout, but his first reaction was how to get himself to Boston to be with me, and I think that pretty much solidified my feelings for him. Which, in hindsight, has always been my downfall. I never see the deceit when I fall hard and fast."

Rachel swallows audibly, knowing that _she_ fits into that bracket all too well. "Jesse wants me to have an abortion," she says, and Quinn visibly recoils.

"What?"

Rachel is fighting tears again. "Before we even _knew_ there was really a baby, he wanted to get rid of it. Just like that. He - he even took out his phone to call his manager to schedule an appointment for me. I screamed at him, told him he didn't have to have any part of this, and then hid in my bedroom. He left, and then I did as well. I went straight to the airport to fly here. I just - I wanted my family."

Quinn doesn't heed the alarm bells going off in her head as she wraps her arms around Rachel, holding the smaller woman tightly against her, which finally gives Rachel the silent permission to release her tears and sob into Quinn's shirt. "Shh," Quinn coos quietly. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." She presses gentle kisses to Rachel's hair and hairline, her hand absently rubbing soothing circles on the brunette's back. "We'll figure it out, okay? There's nothing to worry about. We'll get the results, and then we'll figure out what to do, okay? We'll get you through this."

Rachel just holds onto Quinn, breathing in her still-familiar scent and embracing the comfort.

It's not lost on either one of them that Quinn uses the pronoun _we_.

* * *

Rachel's recovery is… awkward, and Quinn doesn't help. The blonde just extricates herself from Rachel, tucks a strand of hair behind the brunette's ear, and then leaves her in the room while she runs down the street to deliver the blood to the independent lab the practice frequently employs.

Rachel washes her face and pulls herself together while Quinn is gone, and the blonde finds a completely transformed Rachel Berry when she returns. If Quinn didn't know the woman was a crying mess ten minutes prior; she would never have been able to tell.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks, almost hesitantly.

"For now," Rachel answers, choosing to be truthful. "Thank you for… all of this."

Quinn blinks. "Of course, Rachel," she murmurs, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot as they stand facing each other in the waiting room. "Maybe some rest will do you some good," she says, almost whispering. "For both your body and your mind. If I recall correctly, you're quite the fan of afternoon naps."

Rachel manages to smile at her. "I think that's the best idea you've ever had."

Quinn shrugs. "It's been known to happen."

"I think I will catch a nap," she says. "If anything, just to drown out Santana trying to get a rise out of me."

Quinn chuckles. "She's missed you."

"She sure has a wonderful way of showing it."

"She's Santana," Quinn quips; "what else did you expect?"

Rachel shrugs in concession. "I should get going," she says. "Thank you, again, for - "

"Don't mention it," Quinn cuts her off. "Just, make sure you take care of yourself, okay? Especially if you _are_."

Rachel nods once, and starts walking towards her with the intention of bypassing her to reach the door, but something makes her stop. "See you tonight?" she asks.

"I'll be there," Quinn replies on an exhale.

"Good," she returns, rising onto the balls of her feet and pressing her lips against Quinn's cheek. Then, before she can see Quinn's reaction, she rushes out the door and into the cold.

Into reality.

* * *

Quinn forces herself not to read too much into Rachel's actions. It means nothing, she knows. It _can't_ mean anything because Quinn won't allow it to, and both their lives are already too fucking messed up to add lingering feelings into the mix.

When she leaves the office, she goes across the street where Finn is waiting for her, his smile contagious and his laugh infectious. It's another coffee date because she hasn't been able to give him a definitive time and day for the _real_ date. She knows she's stalling, and she suspects he knows it too.

Anyway.

To make up for it, she invites him and Carole to the Berry house for a game of Touch Football and dinner. Hiram is always saying the more, the merrier, and, despite her hesitancy to explore something romantic with Finn, he and his mother have always had a special place in her cold, dead heart.

Of course, Finn eagerly agrees, and the two of them wait for Carole's shift to end before making the drive through the suburbs. Quinn has to stop to pick up Mia, and she's mildly amused by Finn's awkwardness around her daughter. It's terribly endearing how much he _tries_ to relate to her though, and he gives her his full attention whenever she's explaining the very intricate story about princesses and ninjas she's made up in her tiny blonde head.

There Mia goes again, working her magic.

Those powers are deadly.

Quinn doesn't really think about the consequences of her extended invitation until they pull up in front of the house. She doesn't want Rachel to think this is some kind of reaction to what she learned today, because it's not. It isn't even the first time Finn has been to the house. He knows Noah, Santana and Sam. He even knows Rachel. In fact, they graduated together. Finn also happens to be Steve's football coach and Stacey's Glee director. He isn't a stranger, and Quinn is relieved by the welcome the Hudson family receives.

Until Santana pulls her aside.

"So, this is the oaf you're hooking up with then?"

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Firstly, he's not an oaf," she says; "and, secondly, I am not _hooking up_ with him. What are you, twelve?"

"If you're looking to make Berry jealous, you could have picked _anyone_ else."

Quinn bristles at the sound of that. "I'm _not_ trying to make anyone jealous," she says. "And, I like him, okay? He's nice."

"Nice guys don't get the girl, Quinn."

She shrugs lightly, and then stiffens when Rachel emerges from somewhere in the house. Her eyes look bleary from sleep, and Quinn can't help her sudden smile. "Can we just talk about this later?" she tells Santana, and then moves towards Rachel before Santana can reply. "I see you took my advice," she says when Rachel notices her and hesitantly smiles.

"Advice?" she questions. "I was operating under the assumption that getting rest was under my doctor's orders."

There are _so many_ flirtatious things Quinn could say to that, but she holds her tongue. "How are you feeling?" she asks instead.

"A bit better," she confesses quietly, stepping towards Quinn. "Although, I'm worried about what excuse I'm going to give for not participating in this game Noah is insisting we play."

"I've got you covered," Quinn easily says. "I already told them you stopped by to donate blood today, and that excuses you from physical activity."

Rachel offers her a grateful smile. "Quinn Fabray, my hero."

Quinn's heart rate rises slightly, and there's a moment when they just stare at each other, the entire world completely falling away. It's too much and too little at the same time.

The sound of a throat clearing breaks the spell, and they turn their heads to see Jesse standing in the doorway, his hands deep in his pockets and his eyes narrowed in silent question. Quinn wants nothing more than to punch his stupid, smug face, but she _can't_. The last time she punched somebody - Cooper, it was Cooper - she sprained her wrist, and her fledgling surgical career definitely needs her to reign in her urges. Her hands are important.

"We're starting the game," Jesse says when it looks like neither woman is going to speak.

"Okay," Rachel says; "we'll be right out." She waits until Jesse's turned away to reach out to touch Quinn, her fingers brushing against the other woman's limp hand. She doesn't say anything; just holds the contact for a beat, and then heads out of the house.

Quinn is always going to follow.

* * *

"I'm calling it," Noah says, speaking over all of them gathered on the front lawn. "Girls versus guys."

Stacey grumbles. "That hardly seems fair," she says. "Noah, you're _literally_ a professional football player. And you guys are so much bigger than us."

Santana clucks her tongue. "Stace, we can take them."

"Speak for yourself, San," she says. "Forgive me if I don't want to get crushed by a full-grown man."

Quinn glances at Santana. "She has a point, you know?"

"I still think we can take them," Santana argues.

"You really can't," Sam says, and he _knows_ it's the one thing he definitely shouldn't be saying to either Santana or Quinn. The women are fiercely competitive, and it's all it takes for both women to agree.

"You're going down, Evans," Santana hisses at him, and then they separate into their two teams.

Noah, Jesse, Finn, Sam and Steve move to one corner of the lawn, while Quinn leads Santana, Brittany, Leslie and Stacey to another corner. The girls huddle together, mainly for warmth, but Quinn is serious. She's their unspoken captain because it's the type of vibe she's always given off. Quinn Fabray is a natural-born leader whether she likes to admit it or not.

"Here's how I see it," Quinn says, glancing over her shoulder to where Noah is similarly talking to his charges. "They already think they have us beat, because the truth is they _are_ bigger than us." She runs a gloved hand over her short hair. "So, we're going to use it to our advantage. We're small and we're agile and we're fast."

"We are," Brittany says. "Well, _I_ am."

"Quinn is getting slow with her old age," Santana jokes.

Quinn grumbles. "I'm going to ignore that because it's the other team I should be tackling."

Leslie laughs, gently patting Quinn on the shoulder. "I believe they have underestimated the power of this team."

"Oh, definitely," Santana quips, placing her hand in the centre of the group. "We're going to crush it."

"Wait, wait," Stacey says; "you guys do realise we don't actually have a game plan, right?"

Santana looks at Quinn. "She's right, you know?"

Quinn shrugs. "I was thinking that we just aim to get and keep the ball."

"Oh, that's a brilliant idea, Q," Leslie drawls sarcastically.

"Haha, okay, okay, I have a plan," Quinn says, her eyes shining in her amusement. "Stacey, all you have to do is run forward towards the opposition, and the rest of us will do our best to get you the ball and give you a free run to their goal."

Stacey stares at her with wide eyes. "Wait, why me?"

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Would you rather be doing the tackling?"

She blinks once, twice. "You're right."

Quinn shrugs again. "It's the best I can come up with on the fly," she says. "It's either that or 'try not to die.'"

They all laugh, which eases them somewhat. When they finally break, Santana bumps Quinn with her hip. "'Try not to die,' huh?"

Quinn doesn't miss the odd look in Jesse's eye when she looks across at the other team. "It's sound advice."

"Good," Santana says. "So, take it."

* * *

Jesse St James is not jealous.

Whatever he's feeling is something else entirely because he can already feel himself losing Rachel. Truthfully, he's been feeling it for quite some time. Even before Ohio, and long before she told him about the _maybe_ of their future. It's not lost on him that there's lingering hostility and resentment in the atmosphere around the family, but he isn't really sure _why_. Rachel has never really spoken to him about it, and he's never thought to ask. It never caught his attention that she rarely spoke of her family and never made the trip home to spend any time with them… until now.

Even though there are so many things he doesn't know, he _does_ know that there's something unspoken about Quinn and Rachel. He doesn't know what it could be, and he's certain nobody would tell him if ever he did ask, so he keeps his mouth shut. He'll find answers, he's sure, from _somebody_.

Still, he can't shake the feeling that Quinn is a threat of some kind; in some way. It isn't as if the blonde has said or done anything. In fact, Quinn seems to ignore Rachel whenever possible, and today is the first time he's actually _seen_ them interact in the same room together, but Jesse reads that for what it is. They _can't_ be in the same room together because there are too many unresolved feelings, and now, here he is, forcing his way into the very middle of it when he was ready to call it quits just a week ago.

"They're fast," Noah says, drawing Jesse's attention. "Especially Britt and Quinn. I think I can handle B. Anyone up for Q?"

Jesse schools his features, not wanting to look too eager, but he does eventually speak up. "I can handle her."

Noah eyes him curiously for a moment before he shrugs. "Cool."

Once they're set, Noah claps his hands and they move into position. He meets Quinn in the centre of the lawn, and Rachel approaches them with a whistle in one hand and a coin in the other. "All good?" she asks them.

Noah ignores her. "You're going down, Fabray."

Quinn looks unfazed. "Rach, can we please just get this over with?" she asks, sounding bored.

If Rachel is caught off guard by the casual use of her nickname, she doesn't show it. "H-heads or tails?" she asks Quinn.

"Tails."

Rachel steps back and flips the coin with her trembling fingers. It lands in the snow, and all three of them bend to see it's showing Tails. Quinn's answering smirk practically takes Rachel's breath away, and she absently reaches for Quinn's arm for support as she bends to retrieve the coin. When she's upright again, her hand falls away.

"We'll start with the ball and stay as we are," Quinn says, her face a little redder than usual.

Noah looks from Rachel to Quinn, and then back to Rachel. "I know you're a girl and all that, but I expect you to be fair."

"I resent that, Noah."

"I'm just saying."

She huffs. "If you must know, Dad and Daddy have designated teams to themselves, and they will be keeping me honest."

Quinn opens her mouth to say something but snaps it shut immediately, thinking better of it. It won't do to bring up things of the past when they're literally about to tackle one another.

Rachel notices the movement and, while she appreciates Quinn's restraint, she hates that it's come to this. "On my whistle," she says, turning and walking to stand on the sidelines of their makeshift football field. She watches as they all move into position, the ball held securely in Quinn's hands.

Well.

This should be interesting.

Rachel brings the whistle up to her lips, and blows.

* * *

Quinn passes the ball to Leslie immediately, who gives it to Brittany. Quinn runs forward, and then back, as she watches Stacey make a dart for the opposite goal. "B!" she yells, and Brittany passes it right back. She steps one, two, and prepares to release to Stacey.

Only.

She's hit by _something_ she isn't expecting, and the force of the tackle knocks the wind right out of her and she lands heavily on her back in the snow. "Jesus," she mutters, trying to catch her breath.

Santana moves into her field of view. "Are you okay?" she asks, holding out a hand to help her up.

Quinn groans as she rises to her feet and shakes herself off. "I think so," she says, stretching her back and hearing it pop. "Who the fuck was that?"

"Who do you think?"

Quinn glances over at Jesse, who's sporting a smirk that makes him look wholly unattractive.

Well.

Santana looks at Quinn's look of befuddlement. "Seems to me that pretty boy is feeling threatened."

"By what?"

"You."

"But, why?"

Santana slides an arm around Quinn's waist and turns her to face the house where Rachel is standing, practically vibrating in place. Her eyes are solely on Quinn, bottom lip trapped between her teeth in… concern. "She's worried about you, Q, and she isn't even trying to hide it."

Quinn looks away, forcing away the sudden flare of hope in her chest. She shakes her head. "Let's wipe that fucking smirk off his stupid fucking face."

Santana lets out a whoop. "There's my Head Bitch!"

"Santana!" Hiram reprimands from where he's sitting on the front porch with Mia in his lap.

* * *

Finn starts the next play, passing it to Sam, who passes it to Noah. Almost, as one, they surge forward, and it takes the combination of Santana, Brittany and Leslie to haul 'The Puck' to the ground, and everyone devolves into hysterical laughter. They roll around in the snow for a good minute before Quinn takes hold of the ball again. She passes it to Stacey who, in a panic, passes it straight back to her.

Laughing at her antics - gosh, their plan just fell to shit - Quinn decides to run with the ball. She dodges Sam's tackle, evades Finn with Santana's help… only to be bulldozed to the ground by yet another heavy tackle from Jesse. She's knocked onto her side this time, an involuntary scream passing her lips as her back protests against the force.

"What the actual fuck, man?" Santana growls, pushing Jesse out of the way and moving to kneel at Quinn's side. "You screamed, Q. What hurts? Is it your back?"

Quinn just manages to roll onto said back and stare at the sky. "Did we win?"

Santana lets out a bark of laughter. "What a fucking idiot."

"Help me up."

Finn steps forward, easily lifting Quinn to her feet. "If I didn't like you before, I definitely do now," he says. "Girl can take a hit."

"I'm definitely going to feel it later," she mutters, and accepts the brief hug he gives her.

"Oi," Noah calls out. "Stop macking on the enemy."

"Oh, grow up," Quinn calls right back. "And keep an eye on your tackler. I've already survived one spinal injury, thank you very much."

Noah's face falls slightly, but Quinn just keeps smiling, trying to ease his worry.

Quinn stumbles back to their side of the field and stretches out her back again. Stacey and Santana both cringe at every pop and click, and Quinn does her best not to show how uncomfortable she really is. She's got her arms up in the air when Rachel approaches, looking all kinds of out of place.

"As the referee," she says; "it's my job to ensure all players are fit enough to participate."

Quinn shoots her an amused look as Santana rolls her eyes. "Jeez, Berry, if you wanted to check on her; all you had to do was say so."

Rachel ignores Santana in favour of Quinn. "Are you okay?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't think your boyfriend likes me very much."

"He's just competitive," she automatically says.

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Sure… _that's_ what it is."

Before Rachel can respond, Santana cuts her off. "Can we get back to the game please?" she says. "I want to break some Broadway bones."

Rachel turns to her, horrified. "Santana, no, you can't - "

"Get to the sidelines, Berry," the Latina says dismissively. "Aren't you supposed to be impartial?"

Rachel huffs, absently stomping her foot, and then stalks away in one of her patented diva storm-offs that she hasn't managed to outgrow.

Santana chuckles. "It never gets old."

Quinn stares after Rachel. "No, it really doesn't."

* * *

The game goes on with each team scoring only one touchdown. Quinn manages to evade Jesse successfully, and Santana even lands a few of her own tackles on the 'enforcer.'

"Last play, guys," Hiram calls out, getting their collective attention. "Dinner's ready."

Quinn starts with the ball, passing it to Leslie, who passes it straight to Stacey. This time, Quinn doesn't offer herself as an escape. Instead, she screams for Stacey to run. "Go, go, go!" she shouts out. "Santana, cover her right!"

As soon as Santana moves, Quinn does too, and they take on all challengers to get Stacey across the line. It takes both Santana and Brittany to stop Noah, and Leslie and Quinn just manage to stop Sam, but Jesse heads straight for Quinn, viciously taking her out without a second look. Which, in hindsight, leaves only Steve to stop the other four women.

He never stood a chance.

Though, Quinn can barely think about that because it _hurts,_ and she's vaguely aware of someone yelling something at… Jesse. Good. Because, seriously, that was a cheap shot if she's ever seen one. She doesn't move for the longest time, which prompts a dog-pile atop her, because they _won_. The weight of her team robs her of her precious breath, but Quinn holds in her groans of pain and forces herself not to cry. She's definitely going to bruise.

"We won!" Stacey screams right into her ear.

It's well worth it.

* * *

Quinn feels the full effects of the game when she retires to the living room after dinner. She moves to sit beside Mia on the couch, tucking her little body into her side and trying to focus on _Paw Patrol_. She's been unconvincing when she says she's fine because she keeps wincing whenever she makes a move, and the painkillers are doing very little to offer relief.

"Quinn?"

She glances up at Rachel, stiffening immediately. And then wincing.

"I know this is unkind, but you look like you've been hit by a bus," she says lightly, handing the woman a cup of hot chocolate, which she gratefully accepts with a tight smile.

"I feel like it, too," she murmurs, involuntarily tightening her hold on Mia, who doesn't even seem to notice. And, well, Quinn kind of already _knows_ what it feels like to be T-boned, which is not an experience she'd like to repeat any time soon.

Rachel very carefully perches on the armrest of the couch with her own cup in her hand. "You've been quiet," she says carefully. "How bad is the pain?"

Quinn swallows audibly. "Believe me, I've handled far worse," she says, and isn't that the truth?

* * *

Quinn doesn't move for the longest time and, eventually, the painkillers kick in enough for her to fall asleep on the couch, with Mia following her into Dreamland a few minutes later. Leslie drapes their bodies in a light blanket, and the rest of the family plays poker in the dining room.

Well, not all of them.

Brittany opts to sit in Santana's lap, Hiram and Carole definitely aren't going to participate in _gambling_ , LeRoy disappears into his study, and Stacey just isn't interested. Steve is the Dealer, and they're betting with various types of berries: strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries and cranberries, with each one holding a different value.

It's serious, and the family's competitiveness is in full flight. The only reason they aren't shouting at each other is the knowledge that there are two sleeping blondes in the other room. Finn fails miserably at poker, and Santana and Noah bait him into losing all his berries far quicker than he'd ever admit to Quinn. It's then that he and Carole take their leave, thanking the family for having them. Finn asks Stacey to say goodnight to Quinn for him, and then they leave.

Rachel watches them exit with mixed emotions. She _likes_ Finn. She always has. He was a good friend to her during their high school days, and she even might have had a crush on him once upon a time. However, the knowledge that the man now likes Quinn - _her_ Quinn - just rubs her the wrong way.

Logically, she knows she has no right even to _think_ anything about Quinn's love-life.

If anything, she could do a lot worse than Finn Hudson.

Goodness knows, she already has.

She managed to fall for Rachel Berry.

Jesse leaves shortly after, which is only because he has a conference call with his manager that he _can't_ miss. It's almost a relief to them all - even Jesse, though his relief is for an entirely different reason. He's just glad that Quinn _is_ asleep because he doesn't want to have to witness any more interaction between her and Rachel. Really, he thinks he's made himself perfectly clear to the blonde woman, so it's with a certain comfort that he leaves for the evening.

It's not lost on any of them that Rachel doesn't stand to walk him out. Hiram does, and nobody is willing to comment. Even Santana is mum, which may or may not be the result of Brittany's calming arms wrapped around her neck, effectively keeping her from saying or doing something she'll regret.

As expected, Noah and Santana _own_ at poker and, when Rachel is cleaned out, she leaves the table and makes her way into the living room. As quietly as she can, she settles into an armchair, leans her head back and closes her eyes. Sure, she can hear the sounds of her bickering family but, right now, right here, she's more interested in the sound of two blondes softly breathing.

It's honestly music to her ears.

* * *

Hiram doesn't allow Quinn to go home when she does eventually wake, and the blonde doesn't fight. Mia already has clothes here, and the two of them retire into LeRoy's study, looking all kinds of adorable as they're both bleary-eyed and pouty. Sleepiness on Quinn has always been cute to Rachel and, the second her mind latches onto that thought, she knows she has to go back to her hotel.

Rachel mumbles her farewells, ignores Santana's pointed look, and leaves the house without acknowledging the very real truth that she didn't run home to her fathers or the comfort her family represents when her life was threatening to fall to pieces all around her.

She ran home to Quinn.

* * *

Quinn dreams of a future that terrifies her in the best way.

Rachel. Mia. And a faceless child in Rachel's arms.

She wakes with tears in her eyes.

Mia is within reach, and Quinn immediately draws her daughter into her embrace. She's fine. _They're_ fine.

Quinn has always only ever needed Quinn.

She's the only one who's never let her down.

* * *

Rachel wakes feeling nauseous. She can't be sure _what_ is the culprit, but it does take her an obscenely long time to leave her hotel room and head to the Berry home. She isn't sure what she's expecting to find, but it's not Jesse, Sam and Steve watching some Christmas Special or Leslie and Stacey on their way out.

"Puck and Hiram are down in the basement doing God knows what," Stacey tells her. "San and Britt are..." she trails off.

Leslie laughs out loud. "They're probably, definitely, having sex."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Where are you two going?"

"Last minute shopping," Leslie says. "We're a little _more_ than originally planned this year."

Rachel _knows_ it's not a dig, but it does feel somewhat personal. _She_ hasn't even thought about gifts for everyone yet. Damn. How is she supposed to get that all together in just a few short days. She makes a note to call her personal assistant and see what she can conjure up this late into the holiday season.

"You're welcome to tag along," Leslie says, offering her a genuine smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Would you rather stay here?"

Just thinking about it makes her anxiety pique. The last thing she wants is to be anywhere where Jesse is... _and_ Santana. Gosh. "Let's go."

* * *

In all her life, Quinn Fabray hasn't been one for vanity. It's never been lost on her she's attractive, but it's never been something she's held in high regard. She hasn't felt the need to _care_ , and, for the most part, that hasn't changed.

But, as resolute as she is in her convictions, even she has to admit her kid is pretty stinking cute.

Like, dangerously so.

Sometimes, Quinn catches herself just staring at Mia in both wonder and disbelief. It constantly amazes her that she's a part of this adorable little human being, and it makes her breath catch. Even right now, as Quinn walks around the mall with Mia's little hand held securely in her own; she can't help thinking that her tiny pink marshmallow is honestly the most precious thing on God's good Earth.

Wow.

Talk about vanity.

"Over there, Mommy," Mia suddenly says, tugging on Quinn's hand as she forces them to veer to the right. "We can get shoes there."

Quinn suppresses a sigh and dutifully follows her little menace into the shoe store. Apparently, Mia wants to get another pair of bed slippers for Hiram, and Quinn is picking her battles wisely. Earlier in December, Quinn sat down with Mia and they put together a list of presents to get for the family. Mia ended up scribbling out her own ideas - that, to this day, still just look like crayon snakes on a page - but Quinn jotted everything down, and now they're on a mission.

Of course, Quinn ordered some of the presents online, but she's saved a few to be able to go Christmas shopping with her daughter. She missed out on all the holiday traditions the previous year because… reasons, but Mia is with her now, and it's the happiest she's been all year. It's no secret that Quinn's happiness lies in little Mia, and she isn't even ashamed to admit it.

Luckily, they're able to find the shoes Mia wants and Quinn quickly pays for them, so they can move on. They still need to get the new _Halo_ for Steve and a new case for Sam's guitar. Mia wants to get him one with _Barbie_ on it, and Quinn isn't arguing. It's doubtful they'll ever find one, but she's willing at least to _look_.

"Well, look who we have here," a voice says behind them, and Quinn spins around immediately, her eyes locking on Rachel… and Leslie and Stacey.

"Hi!" Mia practically screams, jumping up and down, before releasing Quinn's hand and making a break for it. As expected, she gets swept into Leslie's strong arms, and Stacey ruffles her hair in greeting. Rachel is a little more reserved, but her smile is wide and genuine when Mia turns her attention to her.

Quinn sucks in a shaky breath before making her way over to them, a steady smile on her face. She's trying not to think about her dream. It's just not going to help anyone. "Hey," she casually says, greeting them as a group. "What are you ladies doing here?"

"Last minute shopping," Stacey says, shrugging. "It seems we're not the only ones."

Quinn chuckles. "We're looking for something very specific, aren't we, Mia?"

Mia nods her head. "It's vewy special."

"What is it?" Leslie asks the little girl in her arms.

"Can't tell you," Mia immediately says, scrambling to be let down. "It's a surpwise."

"For who?" Stacey asks.

Mia looks up at Quinn, seeking permission or confirmation. At her mother's nod, she rushes to Stacey and gestures for her to bend down. Quieter than any of them expect, she whispers words straight into Stacey's ear, and the older blonde immediately smiles.

"That sounds lovely," she says to Mia, tucking some hair behind her ear. "I hope you find it."

"Me too," Quinn says, shaking her head. It's not the biggest disaster if they _don't_ \- there's a contingency plan in place - but it would be disappointing if they failed to come through. Christmas has always been a special holiday to her, and she isn't going to let anything about this particular one get in the way of that.

"Are you joining us?" Leslie asks; "or is this a Fabray covert mission?"

Quinn chuckles, her gaze drifting down to Mia. "Would you like some company, baby?"

Mia nods enthusiastically, her hand immediately seeking out Leslie's.

"Well, then," Quinn says, absently waving her hand. "Let's go."

Stacey ends up walking ahead with Leslie and Mia, and Quinn and Rachel settle in side by side. Their movements are slow - the mall is pretty crowded - and they window shop like complete professionals.

At some stage, they get a little separated when Leslie pulls Stacey and Mia into a vinyl store and Quinn stops to buy a baseball cap for Steve. He may be playing football, but the kid has always loved baseball, and she knows it's because of his biological father that he barely even remembers.

Rachel uses the fact that they're 'alone' to ask a question that's been nagging on her brain since the platelets left her body.

"Did you - umm - do you know the test results?"

Quinn blinks. "Oh, no, I don't," she answers. "I stopped by the lab before we came to the mall but they do have a skeleton crew working because of the holidays, and a pretty nasty backlog."

"Oh."

"Sorry."

Rachel nods slowly, accepting Quinn's words. "I can't stop myself from thinking about it," she admits quietly. "I've been a distracted mess all morning. Leslie even suggested I take a Xanax for whatever is bothering me on the way over here."

Quinn manages a smile. "Don't do that."

"I won't," she says. "Though, Stacey did suggest a haircut might do me some good."

Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Uh, why?"

"I've stopped asking questions at this point," she says. "And, here I was thinking that changing your appearance would _raise_ anxiety levels. Who knew getting bangs could be so therapeutic?"

"I don't know," Quinn says; "I don't think bangs would be the _worst_ look you could give yourself."

Rachel chuckles lightly. "I actually did change it up, you know?" she says. "Freshman year. I just - I needed a makeover, and I'm still convinced it was a complete and utter disaster."

And, unthinkingly, Quinn says, "I think you looked good."

Rachel's eyes snap towards her. "What?" she asks immediately. "How - how could you possibly know what I looked like?"

Quinn tenses in panic. Shit shit shit. "Umm - you know," she struggles for words; "you - you always look good." She wants to bury her face in her hands, but Rachel is still looking at her expectantly and _oh fuck, what did she just do_?

Rachel reaches out to touch her forearm, bringing them both to a stop. "Quinn," she says softly, almost as a whisper. "How do you know what I looked like?"

Quinn searches every corner of her brain for anything suitable to say and, when she hears a voice say Rachel's name, she thanks her lucky stars for _whoever_ is watching from up above. Rachel turns her head to the source of the voice, her mouth smiling but her eyes remaining concerned. Frankly, she doesn't expect to be recognised as _thee_ Rachel Berry in this town, but she's been recognised as the high school graduate of ten years ago.

Mike Chang and Tina Cohen-Chang approach the two women carefully, and Rachel kicks into gear, embracing them both and asking after them. They greet Quinn too because Mike might have graduated with Rachel but Quinn ended up graduating with Tina when the blonde managed to work up enough credit to finish school at the same time as the older Santana Lopez.

To this day, the Latina can't _stand_ it, and Quinn loves to remind her of it.

But now, years later, Tina is Quinn's friend, and Mike and Mia get on so well that even Cooper gets jealous.

"We haven't seen you in forever," Tina says to Rachel, all too aware of the misery the woman left behind when she left Lima.

"I haven't been back until now," Rachel says, feeling the shift in the air. Tina _knows_. Of course, she knows. Practically this entire town knows that Rachel Berry skipped town in the middle of the night and left a heartbroken Quinn Fabray in her wake. "Are you back for the holidays?" Rachel asks her.

Tina's eyes narrow slightly. "We actually live in Lima," she says. "Not all of us took off with the intention of never returning."

Rachel presses her lips together and takes a small step back.

Tina looks at Quinn. "How's Mia?"

"She can't wait until she gets to be in your class," Quinn tells her with a roll of her eyes. "I swear, every time we see you, I have to deal with two full days of 'Miss Chang this' and 'Miss Chang that.' If I were more insecure, I would be worried."

"Mia adores you."

"Not as much as she adores Mike here."

Mike puts on a smug expression, puffing out his chest, and the two women laugh. It's as if Rachel isn't even standing there.

"You guys should stop by the house," Quinn says. "Hiram would love to see you, and you know how he loves to feed the masses."

Tina nods. "We'll see if we have time to swing by."

"Perfect."

When they say their goodbyes, it's brief and stilted, and then Quinn resumes her walking, expecting Rachel to follow. The moment Quinn realises she isn't, she stops and turns back. "Rachel?" she questions.

For a moment longer, the brunette is silent. When she speaks, she sounds haunted. "Do - do they _all_ know?" she asks. "I mean, does everyone know what - what happened?"

Quinn sighs. "Yes," she says. "If people _wanted_ to know; they found a way to find out."

"What do they know, Quinn?"

"Everything."

Rachel swallows thickly. "What do you mean by 'everything?'"

"Why are you going to make me say it?"

"Because you and I can't possibly be talking about the same thing."

Quinn bristles slightly. "Oh, believe me, we _are_ ," she says. "This whole fucking town found out _exactly_ when I lost my virginity."

Rachel gasps.

"It's amazing, you know, how traumatic it is for the human body to go from one extreme to the next," she says darkly. "To go from such euphoria straight into complete and utter heartbreak."

"Quinn."

The blonde growls. "Don't," she hisses. "Jesus, Rachel, just don't."

Rachel reaches out for her wrist when she turns away. "I'm sorry," she chokes out.

Quinn takes her arm back, rounding on Rachel with a hurt, accusing look on her face. "Save me the apologies," she hisses. "I've never wanted you to tell me you're sorry. I just wanted you to tell me _why_."

Rachel blinks in surprise. "Why," she echoes.

"Why," Quinn says. "Why you left the way you did. Why you didn't even _tell_ me. Why you - " her voice catches and she forces herself to take a calming breath. "Just, why, Rachel."

Rachel swallows audibly. "But, I did, Quinn."

"What are you talking about?" Quinn asks, frowning.

Rachel's brow also furrows. "What am _I_ talking about? What are _you_ talking about?"

"Rachel, I honestly have no idea what you're telling me right now."

"You don't?"

"Nope. Nothing."

"But I explained it all in the letter I left on - "

Quinn cuts her off. "What letter?" she asks. "I didn't see any letter."

Rachel's breath catches in her throat, her eyes blinking rapidly. "What?"

"I don't know what letter you're talking about," Quinn explains. "I've never received a letter from you. I've received _nothing_ from you since I woke up to an empty bed, blood trickling between my legs and a fucking hole in my heart."

Rachel isn't sure how to respond to that at all.

Nothing.

Quinn has endless questions, but she's not sure either of them is ready for the answers.

So, she says nothing, and Rachel does the same. This conversation is done and, frankly, Quinn would be perfectly fine if they never spoke about it ever again. She might want to know why, but she's terrified of the reasons. Over the years, she's just about managed to delude herself into thinking it wasn't entirely her fault.

She's not sure how she'll react if Rachel proves otherwise.

When they meet up with Leslie, Stacey and Mia; they still haven't said words to each other and, frankly, Quinn appreciates the silence and Rachel is willing to give it to her. It's obvious there's a significant disjoint between them, between now and _then_ and it's forever going to tear them apart if they don't work through it.

But, work through what?

* * *

Rachel has _so many_ questions.

About the letter, yes, and about the crypticness of Quinn's avoidance. How _does_ she know what Rachel looked like because Rachel stayed off social media entirely her freshman year. There is no feasible way for Quinn to know anything about the makeover she had while she was in New York that first year, unless... she saw her.

But.

If Rachel won't get answers from the source, she'll go to the next best thing. As often as she and her closest _sister_ clashed growing up, Rachel always knew Santana Lopez would never lie to her. It was just a given. She may be the biggest bitch imaginable but she's always been truthful.

It hasn't always been a good thing, particularly when it comes to Quinn. To this day, Santana _knows_ Quinn has never forgiven her for her drunken confession of _Quinn's_ secrets.

If Rachel is going to be mad at anyone for revealing to this town that she skipped town in search of a bigger life the morning after taking Quinn's virginity, then she should turn her ire on an unsuspecting Santana Lopez.

"Santana?"

The Latina lets out a long-suffering groan as she rolls her neck to look at her fellow brunette. "What do you want, Berry?"

"The truth."

Santana eyes her warily because they _both_ know Rachel is going to get it out of her, without even having to try. "About what?"

"When was Quinn in New York?"

For a moment, Santana's eyes widen and she shifts uncomfortably. "What are you talking about?"

"I _know_ it was my freshman year," she says thoughtfully. "I just don't know how, so why was she in New York?"

Santana huffs, suddenly annoyed. "Why do you _think_?" she snaps. "We went to see you."

Rachel's heart skips several beats. "We?"

Santana sighs heavily, absently tugging on Rachel's sleeve and dragging her into LeRoy's study so they can talk in private. "Look," she starts once they're safely behind the large door. "When we found out Quinn would be graduating with me, we decided to visit a few colleges on the East Coast over Spring Break, and NYU and Columbia were on the list," she says. "That's the story, at least, but we all knew we were going to see you. We'd managed to survive so long without you, but there was a night just a few days before we left when Stacey broke down crying for you, and it really just ate at Quinn. So, yeah, we were coming to see you, and we… did."

"What?" Rachel squeaks.

"We went by the NYADA campus, and we asked around for you, and we… found you." Santana runs a rough hand over her hair. "I don't know what _she_ expected to happen or what she anticipated finding, but it wasn't _that_."

"What?"

" _You_ ," Santana growls. "Looking completely different, all glamorous and _happy_. I think she figured you would be miserable too, but you weren't. You were smiling and laughing and hanging off some douchy guy, and I think she realised for the first time that you made the right decision for both of you. _You_ belonged in New York. You always did, and, despite her offer to follow you to the city you loved; she knew she would never be able to compete with it. Hell, she'd already lost once before. At least, then, she could see it with her own eyes."

There are tears pooling in Rachel's eyes. "She was there?"

Santana nods.

"Why didn't you guys say something?"

"I was _not_ going to talk to you," she says bitingly. "I probably would have killed you, and I wasn't going to force Quinn to do anything she didn't want to. She made a decision for both of you that day, the same way you've constantly made decisions for both of you since you met."

Rachel's nostrils flare. "You should have spoken to me," she practically hisses. "I was the furthest thing from happy. I'm an actress, Santana; I've been acting for the past ten years."

"What do you want?" she snaps back. "Some kind of Award? I mean, you've already got a Tony, right?"

Rachel resists the urge to say she actually has three Tonies, two Grammies and one Emmy. It would just be petty and, frankly, they mean nothing compared to the life she could have had with Quinn.

With Quinn.

Who is sitting in the living room, putting on an act herself.

"Santana," Rachel whispers brokenly. "What did I do?"

The Latina sighs, irritated with herself for feeling anything other than blind anger when it comes to the woman in front of her. "You broke her, Rachel," she says hauntingly; "and everyone in this fucking town knows you're the _only_ one who can put her back together."


	4. Iron Sky

**Part Four**

 **Iron Sky**

* * *

"I come bearing gifts of food and food," Rachel says, getting Quinn's attention as she practically strolls into the blonde's temporary office at the practice.

Quinn experiences a mixture of emotions when she sees her: relief and apprehension and excitement and anger and lingering hurt. None of it seems to be going away any time soon, and she can't be sure if it's getting better or worse the more time they spend together. She knows she needs to protect herself from Rachel but she's unsure how to do that when it's obvious - to her and everyone else - that she's never quite been able to get over the brunette.

She's also incredibly irritated with herself because she should be able to hide it better. She's spent years hiding what's inside, so why is she failing at it so epically now?

"So, is this going to be an everyday thing?" Quinn asks, closing the file in front of her on the desk and setting it aside.

Rachel shrugs. "For now, at least."

If that isn't just another sign that getting too familiar is a terrible idea, Quinn doesn't know what is. Rachel doesn't live in Lima. She lives in New York. Her life is in New York. With Jesse.

Because, despite what everyone thinks, Quinn Fabray isn't a part of Rachel's plan, and she never has been.

"Is Daddy not here?" she asks.

"He's making a house call," Quinn says, eyeing the brunette carefully. After the last conversation they managed to have - alone - she's slightly wary. She's unsure what to expect, and Quinn hates feeling unprepared. She's experienced this feeling three times in her life: the night she decided to tell Rachel she was in love with her; the day she told Cooper she was pregnant and the day a little, pink bundle of joy was placed in her arms.

It's fitting, really, because those are three of the most significant people in her life.

"And Edith?"

"Lunch with Henry."

Rachel merely nods as she settles into one of the chairs opposite Quinn and sets the cooler on the desktop. Without preamble, she removes a few containers and hands one to Quinn. "Dad says you've managed to convert Stacey to veganism."

Quinn chuckles despite herself. "Oh, I wouldn't go _that_ far," she says. "She's just a vegetarian now. She enjoys her cheese and chocolate a little too much, and I'm well aware of just how expensive a vegan diet can be on a student budget."

Rachel nods in agreement as she selects a container of baby carrots for herself and shifts it into her lap. She doesn't want to get too relaxed because there are a few difficult things they need to discuss, but she supposes it helps to have the distraction of food.

As a result, she lets Quinn get in three mouthfuls before she's broaching one of those difficult topics that is just _begging_ to be addressed.

"I know why you know how I looked in New York, Quinn," Rachel says, and Quinn instantly deflates, her fledgling appetite instantly disappearing. "I asked Santana, and she told me."

"Fucking Santana," Quinn mutters under her breath.

"She probably said more things than completely necessary, but I'm relieved to know the truth."

"It changes nothing, Rachel."

"That may be," she says on the exhale; "but it gives me perspective. You thought I was happy."

"Weren't you?"

"Why didn't you say hello to me?"

"Why did you leave me?"

Rachel immediately drops her gaze. That is not the direction she wants this conversation to go, and she's not about to let Quinn steer them that way. "So… Finn seems nice," she says instead, internally cringing because she doesn't want to be talking about that either.

Quinn arches a perfect eyebrow. "You _know_ exactly how _nice_ he is, Rachel," she says.

"I suppose I do," she confesses quietly, wringing her fingers together as she remembers shamelessly flirting with the boy when she first learned the true extent of Quinn's feelings for her.

She definitely didn't handle it well.

In fact, she didn't handle _anything_ to do with Quinn well, at all.

She isn't even handling _this_ well.

What is she doing, and why is she doing it?

What is she still doing sitting here, anyway?

Quinn clears her throat. "We're just having coffee," she says. "People have been trying to set me up with anyone and everyone left, right and centre. Finn is nice, and he's safe, and he seems genuinely to like me. I get the impression he wouldn't willingly hurt me, but I've been wrong in the past."

Rachel sighs, choosing to latch onto that tiny opening. "I'm sorry, Quinn," she says. "God, you have no idea how sorry I am."

"That's right, I _don't_ ," she says. "But I already told you I don't want an apology. It's too fucking late for that."

"Then, what do you want?"

"An explanation."

Rachel presses her lips together. "Isn't it too late for that, as well?"

"No," Quinn says. "You don't get to duck out of it. I want to know. I want to know what could have possibly possessed you to _leave_ me sleeping in your bed just _hours_ after - after making _love_ to me for the _first_ time."

Rachel has her reasons, which she explained in the letter she left. To her, her explanation is unimportant and it means nothing. What would it change? Nothing. She did those horrible, unspeakable things, and she feels about as awful as a person can feel about it.

She sets aside her carrots, suddenly losing her already-minimal appetite. She wonders if receiving the letter actually would have helped Quinn back then, because those words were probably empty. She knows she's going to have to do some investigating to find out what happened to either of the two letters she left. Her safest bet is probably to ask LeRoy.

"Tell me," Quinn says.

Rachel shakes her head. "Tell me why you didn't say anything to me when you were in New York."

"Are you fucking kidding me, right now?"

"Everything would be so much different if you'd just said hello."

It doesn't take Rachel long to realise she's said the absolutely worst thing to say because Quinn's entire demeanour shifts instantly. She tenses, her face growing _hard_ , and Rachel _knows_ she's lost Quinn in this moment.

"Everything would be _different_?" she hisses, her fists clenched. "If _I_ said hello." She shakes her head in disbelief. "You have to be fucking joking!"

Rachel, wisely, doesn't respond.

"What are you even doing here?" she snaps. "There are plenty of doctors in New York, Rachel. Why are you here? Come to rub it in my face how _perfect_ your life is without me?"

Rachel's jaw clenches.

She won't take Quinn's bait.

She _won't_.

Still, she says, "My life isn't perfect, Quinn."

Quinn lets out a dark laugh. "It's not? How fucking sad for you, right? All those dreams, all those _plans_ , and you aren't even _happy_. That's just fucking fantastic." She huffs in exasperation. "What, Rachel? New York not doing it for you anymore?"

The crudeness of this conversation isn't lost on Rachel, and she realises this is Quinn's way of protecting herself.

"I won't apologise for building a life in New York, Quinn," Rachel says quietly. " _Your_ life is _here_ , and mine was never going to be."

"Where I'm a Lima Loser, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you're thinking it," she counters. "You've _always_ thought it, even though you tried not to. I bet you're laughing to yourself coming back here and finding that I've gone absolutely _nowhere_ in all the years you've been living it up, right? I'm stuck right here, a single mother like the washed-up nothing I was always going to become."

"Quinn, no, I - "

"Shut up!" Quinn hisses. "You want to talk. Let's talk." She sets her jaw. "I _know_ I was lost and confused. I _know_ I had a lot of growing up to do, but you were supposed to _help_ me. You were supposed to _be_ with me. But I had to figure it out all on my own because you _left_ me. You left me, Rachel. You toyed with my heart; made me believe I was worth it; made me think I could actually live the life I barely had the courage to dream about... and then you fucking left me, in _your_ bed without a single word!

"You - you just tossed me aside," Quinn continues. "God, do you even know what that feels like? I've been dealing with it my _entire_ life, Rachel. My parents didn't give a shit about me, and every foster home I was in treated me like trash until I had no choice but to run away. And then I found you and your family, and I was home, and then I made the stupid, horrific decision to fall in love... with _you_. You were always _it_ , for me, and it _burns_ that you barely even gave me a chance because, when you left, you took a piece of me with you!

"And now - now, you're just back, and you're stirring the pot, and I don't even know why!" Quinn is livid, the anger of years past rising to the surface and exploding. "I was _fine_! I _am_ fine! Dammit, Rachel, I have a perfectly lovely life here with my daughter and my daughter's father and my family who _love_ and _support_ me. For so long, I convinced myself I _needed_ you, but I didn't and I don't. I don't know what you expect to hear from me. Do you want forgiveness? Some form of exoneration? You can have it. Just take it. You're used to just taking things, aren't you?

"God, what do you even want from me? What! I don't need the weight of your guilty conscience on top of everything else I have to deal with. You did a shitty thing. Live with it. Accept it, and fucking move on!"

And, really, Rachel, of course, has to speak when the smart thing to do is just shut the fuck up. "Oh, the way you've moved on with yours?"

Quinn glares so hard at her that Rachel's convinced her face is going to crack. "Do you know what the first thing I thought when I opened my eyes the morning you left? Just moments before I realised I was alone, naked and in _your_ bed? Do you know?" She leans forward, almost sinister in her movement. She's the Head Bitch right now, absolutely cruel in her approach and uncaring of the consequences of her words. "I thought, this is _exactly_ how I want to spend the rest of my life. With Rachel. Just like this.

"I had it all planned out. We would live in New York, you would be this amazing Broadway star, and I would be your wife. Can you imagine? The highest dream I ever had was to be your wife." She shakes her head, sneering in disgust at her younger self. "So, I should really say thank you. Your leaving is honestly the best worst thing to happen to me. I mean, look at me now. Who would have thought Quinn Fabray would amount to _anything_?

"Whatever you think about how I've lived my life, at least I'm not back home, tail between my legs with so many fucking regrets," she says. "You practically reek of it, and it's really unbecoming of you, Rachel. I thought Broadway was your dream. Isn't it supposed to be the be-all and end-all; all part of your illustrious plan for world domination? People be damned. 'I'll crush you at your peril if you get too close to steering me off course.' What a joke. You had yourself so convinced that _I_ would drag you down, but I've come to think it would have ended up the other around. I'm _more_ , Rachel. I'm so much more than you thought, dreamed or predicted, and you have to live with that as much as I do."

Slowly, Quinn rises to her feet, her ire practically rolling off her in waves. "Thank you for bringing lunch," she says, entirely too politely. "I'm going to the bathroom. I expect you to be gone by the time I get back. Just do what you always do and leave without saying anything. I promise I won't hold it against you." Her smile is borderline _evil_ as she says her parting words, "And, just so you know, you _are_ having that fucking asshole's kid."

* * *

Rachel doesn't cry until she's sitting alone in her hotel room. She's cried over all of this before. In fact, she spent nearly her entire freshman year in some state of despair. Whether it was to do with Quinn or her entire family remains to be seen, but it tore her apart in all the ugliest ways. There were so many days when she wanted to come back, just beg for forgiveness and try to explain.

Thanksgiving was particularly difficult, and that first Christmas was just _crushing_.

She didn't even _call_.

She didn't do a lot of things, and she's still feeling the effects of her teenage decisions ten years later.

* * *

Quinn doesn't come for dinner. She has LeRoy explain that she wants to spend the evening with only Mia before she has to let her go and spend parts of the holiday with Cooper.

They don't need LeRoy's monotone explanation to know it's the furthest thing from the truth.

Something happened, and nobody's willing to ask Rachel about it.

Santana does text Quinn. The two of them aren't really 'talkers.' They love each other dearly but they have a very significant crack in their relationship that Santana has never been able to repair. It's been years, and she just knows Quinn hasn't fully forgiven her.

One day, maybe.

"What's she saying?" Sam asks, the moment Santana gets a reply.

Santana sighs as she reads the message. "Same things LeRoy was spouting."

"Should we go over there?" Stacey asks.

"No," Leslie says, and she means business. "Maybe she just needs to take the evening. Everyone needs a little break once in a while. I imagine nothing about this holiday has been easy, and she _is_ going to have to spend parts of it without Mia, so we should just let them enjoy their time together."

That seems to sober the mood for all but Jesse, who's sitting on the couch beside a silent and subdued Rachel. He has an arm around her shoulders, and she isn't pushing him away, which he accepts is a good sign even if she's not exactly _accepting_ his comfort. He'll wear her down eventually, and he'll convince her to do all she has to in order to keep both their careers on track.

Somebody has to.

If he doesn't, he's worried she's going to move _back_ to this God-awful town and be one of those struggling mothers. Like Quinn. He almost chuckles at the symmetry. Though, even he has to admit that Rachel wouldn't struggle. She's made her millions. And, frankly, Quinn doesn't seem to be struggling all that much either.

And, the kid is kind of cute, if you actually liked children.

* * *

"I still think we should have gone over there," Stacey says hours later, when she and Brittany are making hot chocolate for the people who are still awake.

Brittany sighs, having a read on both Quinn and Rachel. "She needed the night, Stace," she says, entirely too knowingly.

"Why?"

Brittany shrugs. "Wouldn't you?"

* * *

Rachel can't stand the looks. Every once in a while, someone will look at her as if she's to blame, or even as if she's the one with all the answers, and she _hates_ it.

She hates the _truth_ of it.

So, she leaves.

She says a quiet goodnight to them all, not even seeking hugs from either of her fathers. She ignores Jesse because, really, he's just making this entire situation _worse_. She, like Quinn, just needs the night to unpack everything and decompress.

Really, she just spends hours crying until she falls asleep.

* * *

"Did something happen yesterday?" Hiram asks, suddenly wary of Rachel's reaction to his question. She looks an absolute _sight_ this morning, and he's been debating with himself whether it's a good idea to bring it up for the past twenty minutes.

But, she's his daughter and he loves her.

"What do you mean?" Rachel questions, sipping at her tea.

"I don't know," he says; "you're just not acting like your usual self."

She blinks. "I don't know how you could possibly know what my 'usual self' even is, Dad."

Hiram stares at her for the longest time. "I suppose you're right," he says icily. "How _could_ I when you haven't bothered to come home for ten years? Forgive my concern, Miss Berry. I must be mistaken."

Rachel drops her head into her hands when Hiram leaves the kitchen, and she fights off another wave of tears.

God, everything is just such a mess.

 _She's_ a mess.

* * *

Quinn's second round of excuses for skipping out on the previous night's dinner are hollow at best, but nobody calls her out on it.

Not even Santana.

It's obvious to them all that _something_ happened because Rachel looks as beatdown as she's ever looked, and they know it was only a matter of time before the civility they were offering each other ran out. There's just too much history, and it's the painful, unavoidable kind.

Rachel hates that they seem to have taken all these steps back when she was somewhat convinced they were making progress. It wasn't much, but at least they were able to have a conversation without either one of them bursting into tears or something equally ridiculous.

Rachel has to deal with _that_ , and with the baby.

The _baby_.

There's a part of her that doesn't quite believe it because she _knows_ Quinn. She knows the way she operates, and lashing out _to hurt_ is what she does when she feels as if her back is up against the wall.

So, she's not going to read too much into it _now_. She's going to have to talk to Quinn about it.

Well, she's going to have to talk to Quinn, anyway.

* * *

Rachel _knows_ the moment Quinn arrives because the entire house suddenly gets... lighter. It gets louder and it gets warmer, as if Quinn's presence is the one missing piece.

It's Quinn.

It was never Rachel.

Rachel stays hidden in the kitchen as the greetings go on in the entrance hall. She still doesn't move when the noise dies down, and she assumes they all move into the living room. It's the only reason she pushes off the counter with the intention of retreating to LeRoy's study.

But then the kitchen door swings open, and Quinn Fabray walks into the room, her steps faltering at the sight of Rachel.

For the longest time, they just stare at each other, and then Quinn moves towards the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water.

"Quinn," Rachel says, breaking the silence when Quinn doesn't immediately try to leave the kitchen. They both know they need to talk. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

Quinn sighs. "Why is it that all our conversations involve apologies?"

"Because I keep fucking up."

Quinn shakes her head, slightly caught off guard by her use of language. "Well, I'm sorry too, if it counts for anything. I was angry and unprofessional, and I definitely shouldn't have given you the news that way."

At the reminder, Rachel's face falls, and Quinn immediately moves towards her to draw the shorter woman into a hug they both desperately need, previous feelings be damned. "Am I - am I _really_ pregnant?" she asks, speaking into Quinn's shoulder.

Quinn breathes in slowly as she releases the other woman, but doesn't move too far away. "I - umm - I don't actually _know_ ," she admits, running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. I don't actually have the results. I just - I said that because…" she trails off, unsure what to say. They both know why Quinn said what she did. It's who she is, intrinsically. She lashes out and tries to _hurt_ when she's feeling attacked. "I'm sorry," she says again. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I went by the lab again when you left, but they didn't have definitive results for me."

Rachel blinks. "Oh."

Quinn hates herself a little bit, right now. "Are you okay?"

"No, not really."

"I'm so sorry," she says again. "I wish I never said what I did."

"I think there are a lot of things we both wish we never said," Rachel replies softly, wiping at her eyes. "It's okay, Quinn."

"No, it's not," she argues. "It's the furthest thing from okay. This is your _life_. I'm going to sit on their asses tomorrow, okay? They're going to get me my results. I want you to know. God, _I_ want to know."

Rachel looks at her through her lashes. "Why?"

"Because I hate seeing you so torn up about this."

"I'm torn up about a lot of things, Quinn."

Breathing a sigh, Quinn lifts a hand and tucks a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear before resting her palm on her cheek. "You're going to be okay," she whispers. "I promise, you're going to be okay."

"How do you know?"

"I'm Quinn Fabray," she says. "I'm a genius, you know?"

Rachel chuckles, her hand coming to rest over Quinn's on her soft skin. "I'm coming to learn, yeah."

It's a charged moment, this one, as they stare into each other's eyes, searching for a feeling in the other. It's warm and overwhelming, and Rachel wants to soak it up. She wants to lose herself in everything to do with Quinn and -

They spring apart when the kitchen door swings open, and Quinn doesn't even _look_ to see who it is as she lifts her bottle of water and takes a long swig to keep herself calm.

This is too much.

What on earth are they _doing_?

What is _she_ doing?

"There you are," Jesse says, and Quinn immediately tenses. "Kurt called me. What's this about your postponing your tour?"

Rachel sighs tiredly. She's going to _kill_ Kurt. He's supposed to be _her_ manager, and he _knows_ she and Jesse aren't exactly seeing eye to eye about too many things. How dare he try to use Jesse against her?

"Is it because you're - "

Rachel cuts him off. "I'm going to stop you right there, Jesse St James," she hisses. "It's not your problem, remember? You don't even want any part of this, so you don't get a say. Not in _this_ , and not in my career, all right? So, no, you don't get to ask _anything_ of me." She growls; she _actually_ growls, and then she storms out, leaving Quinn and Jesse alone.

It's silent for a moment before Jesse speaks. "I know what you're doing," he says.

Against her better judgment, Quinn turns to face him. "Excuse me?"

"She's _my_ girlfriend, so you need to _back the fuck off_ ," he says, looking straight at her.

Quinn actually laughs. "You're delusional."

Jesse ignores her. "She loves _me_ , you know," he says. "She'll see things my way eventually."

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me, sweetheart," he says, entirely too sweetly. "The stereotype just doesn't suit you."

Quinn's eyes narrow, but she refuses to take the bait.

"Stay away from her," he says. "Surely, you should be able to understand that. It's not very difficult."

Quinn suddenly feels sorry for him. He's so insecure in his own masculinity and his position in Rachel's life that he's deciding to go on the offensive. He doesn't know what Quinn is capable of and, if he's lucky, he never will.

"Do we understand each other?"

Quinn cocks her head to the side. "It really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Our history."

"Oh, no," he says. "Your _history_ doesn't bother me, at all. That's all in the past. I'm more concerned with what's happening _now_."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Now?"

"She's spending way too much time with you."

"I'm a _doctor_ ," she says simply.

Jesse falters for the first time. "She - she came to you?"

"I _am_ a doctor," she repeats, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

"Is she - do you - is it true?"

Quinn doesn't respond.

Jesse, as if coming back to himself, straightens his back and slides a disinterested look on his face. "It doesn't matter, anyway," he says. "She'll see things my way soon enough. Our lives and careers have no place for a _child_." He practically spits the word out, and Quinn hates him just that bit more. "I won't let Rachel get trapped in this God forsaken place with an unwanted kid the way you did."

Quinn can hardly believe he's said such a thing, and she blinks once, twice before she shakes her head. "God, you're a dick," she says.

"At least, I _have_ one."

Quinn clenches her jaw, and he must realise he's hit a nerve with that one because he positively smiles in sudden glee. Her lip curls in disgust at the sight, wondering what Rachel could have possibly seen in this _man_.

Even Cooper - with all his cheating and his lies - is better than this.

"That's it, isn't it?" he questions, his smile growing. And, he's about to go for the jugular when Quinn _reacts_.

With lightning speed, she shoves him away from her, and then steps right into his face, the coldness of her eyes and the harshness in her voice definitely catching him off guard and making his eyes widen. "Fuck you," she starts, the growl evident in her voice. "Talk shit about me all you want," she says; "but don't you _dare_ even mention my daughter, do you hear me? You think I'm some - what - princess with no means to take care of myself? You think I fucking care that you're a man? I don't, because I know men like you, and you're worthless. You're _nothing_. I have dealt with the likes of you my entire life, and they come and go. You are temporary.

"We both know your time is up here, Jesse. It's been up for a while, and you're just grasping at straws, trying to absolve yourself of guilt by placing the blame on me for the disintegration of your pathetic relationship. So, get the fuck out of my face and leave me and my daughter alone. Whatever you _think_ you see, it's all in your moronic brain. You're making it up because you _are_ delusional and I really don't need you and your baseless drama messing up with _my_ life and my daughter's. Do I make myself clear, because I really don't want to have to repeat myself?"

With that, Quinn reels back, looking perfectly composed. She sends him a sickly sweet smile, lifts her bottle of water off the counter, and then walks out of the kitchen with an extra spring in her step.

Quinn, one.

And Jesse, zero.

* * *

Dinner is... tense.

Between Quinn and Jesse, and between Rachel and Jesse. The man is, essentially, ignored, and his presence has never felt so unwanted than at this moment.

Rachel talks mainly to Stacey about Glee, and Quinn focuses all her attention on Mia and... Finn. Sam ended up inviting him again when he ran into him in town, which was nice of the blond, but it makes things slightly more awkward, and nobody is willing to voice the reasons why.

Finn, mercifully, isn't naive enough not to pick up on the tension, and he absently wonders if it's a good idea to get involved in all the drama. Quinn is great and he genuinely likes her, but he doesn't think he could ever be the one to fix her; to help her fix herself.

There are too many cracks, and he's not prepared for a relationship like that. Every time she looks at him, he can tell that it hurts. _She_ hurts, and he's just so grateful that she's even trying.

It's one of the reasons Finn offers to carry Mia into LeRoy's study when the little girl falls asleep at the dinner table. Quinn follows behind him, and the two of them work surprisingly well to get Mia situated. He's a little bit in awe of the mother that Quinn is, all sure and confident as she deals with her toddler. He watches silently as she gently smooths down Mia's hair and kisses her forehead before she straightens and smiles at him. He thinks it's one of the things he must like about her. He was raised by a strong single mother, and he sees that in Quinn.

Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "Everything okay there, Hudson?" she asks, looking slightly amused.

He smiles at her. "Just thinking."

She sighs. "Me thinks you wanted to get me alone," she says.

"And you would be right," he says. "I just - I wanted to talk. I thought, maybe, we should."

Quinn suddenly looks nervous. "Okay," she says, stepping forward. "What are we talking about?"

"I think we should talk about the fact that I want to kiss you, and you definitely don't want me to," he says, cutting straight to the chase. "And, that's okay, Quinn. I'm surprisingly okay with that, because I know it's not me; it's you."

Despite herself, Quinn lets out an unexpected laugh, and she immediately covers her mouth with her hand. "Finn," she says. "You're an idiot."

Finn grins at her, clearly chuffed. "I don't really _get it_ , but I do," he says. "I like you, though. Maybe we can just be friends, yeah? I think I can manage that."

"Are you sure?"

"Not really," he confesses. "But, it's Christmas, and I'm feeling hopeful."

Quinn reaches out to palm his cheek. "You're too good for me anyway."

"I don't know about that."

Smiling softly, she lifts herself up and kisses his cheek. "Thank you, Finn," she says, and he has absolutely no idea the gift he's just given her.

* * *

"I'm calling it," Noah declares; "Truth or Dare."

There's a round of quiet murmuring as people discuss the merits of playing such a game while some of them are slightly intoxicated.

"Maybe we definitely _shouldn't_ play this game," Leslie says over the din of their voices, warily eyeing the space between Quinn and Rachel. She _knows_ this isn't going to end well.

Hell, it isn't going to _start_ well.

Noah _must_ know this, and yet he's still pushing for it.

And yet.

"It'll be fun," Santana says, and it seems that's all anyone needs to hear.

Leslie just watches Quinn's stiff posture and the way her hand is tightly curled around the glass of wine she's been sipping at for almost three hours. Noah and Santana are supposed to be _protecting_ her, and how is a game such as 'Truth or Dare' supposed to do that? She tries to shoot Noah a look, but he's either not seeing it or blatantly ignoring it.

It _better_ be the former, or there will be hell to pay.

"I'll go first," Brittany declares, using her own empty beer bottle to spin on the coffee table. When it lands on Steve, she beams at him. "Truth or dare?"

The boy blinks warily. "Dare," he says.

Brittany practically bounces. "I dare you to eat mayonnaise straight out of the jar."

"Ew," Quinn, Stacey, Leslie and Rachel all say, and Santana just laughs.

"Hop to it, Mini-Evans," Noah says, and Steve grumbles as he rises to his feet.

Quinn slowly settles.

If _that's_ going to be the calibre of dares, then she thinks she'll be okay. She even perks up when Steve returns with a jar of mayonnaise and the tiniest teaspoon imaginable. She quietly chuckles to herself. Of course, he would bring the smallest spoon he could possibly find. Though, the smile immediately slips from her face when she catches Rachel looking at her.

"Chug, chug, chug," Santana says, laughing at Steve's horrified expression.

"This is so gross."

"Dare's a dare, kid," Noah says. "Just get it over with."

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Steve sticks a spoonful of mayonnaise in his mouth and immediately gags.

"Get it down," Santana says. "Swallow! Swallow!"

"That's what she said," Noah says, and receives a dual slap to the back of his head from Quinn and Stacey. "Ow."

When Steve has recovered, he moves to spin the bottle, and it lands on Santana.

"Dare," the Latina says before Steve can even ask the question. "And, you better make it a fucking good one. I'm ready to get some shit done."

Quinn shakes her head. "I'm so glad Mia is asleep right now."

"I think we all are, Sweets," Leslie says.

Steve spends a moment visibly thinking. Then: "I dare you to act like an old man until it's your turn again."

Santana bursts out laughing. "What?"

Steve shrugs. "Unless you think you _can't_ ," he taunts, and Santana immediately hunches over and contorts her face into one of distaste.

Stacey lets out a giggle. "You look exactly like Dr Adrian."

Santana pats her on the head, and then grouses like the old man she's supposed to be as she shuffles to the edge of the couch and spins the bottle.

And, of course, it lands on Jesse.

The anticipation and apprehension is palpable, and Santana's smile is practically feral and predatory as she turns it on the unsuspecting man. "Truth or dare?" she asks.

Jesse casts a nervous look at Rachel, but she's not looking at him. "Truth," he eventually says.

"I _knew_ you were fucking boring," Santana complains. "No worries, though. There are plenty of things I want to know."

"Santana," Quinn warns.

The Latina ignores her. "What exactly do you do?" she asks. "Like, do you actually have a job?" It's definitely not the most scandalous question she can ask, but Jesse still sputters.

"Uh, well," he says, clearing his throat. "I'm currently out of contract."

"So, you're unemployed?" Santana presses.

"That's a second question," Jesse dismisses as he shifts to spin the bottle.

It lands on Stacey, who picks 'Truth.' Apparently, she's too lazy to participate in any kind of dare Jesse could come up with. All in all, it's pretty tame as they go through the motions. On top of a few awkward, somewhat embarrassing questions, Finn ends up having to put shampoo in his hair, Rachel has to reveal which is her favourite of her own songs - she almost hyperventilates when Steve asks - and Quinn has to remove her bra right there in the room - courtesy of Brittany.

Quinn immediately goes to the bathroom to replace it because, seriously, Finn is _right there_. And, well, she also doesn't miss the slight red tinge to the pears of Rachel's cheeks.

When she gets back, it's her turn to spin, and it lands on Noah.

"Noah, truth or dare?" Quinn asks.

"Dare."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"But you already know what I'm expecting you to do," she points out.

"And, I'm ready now."

Her eyes widen, and this entire conversation is confusing them all. "Now?"

"Christmas Day, actually."

Her face splits into a happy smile. "I can't wait."

"Neither can I." At that, Noah leans forward to spin the bottle, but Sam holds out his arms to stop him.

"No," he says. "No way. What the hell was _that_? You two can't just have a conversation without even having a conversation right in front of us like that? What was that even about?"

Noah shrugs. "You'll find out on Christmas Day," he says, and then spins the bottle.

They go through another four rounds - Sam ends up with whipped cream in his pants, Leslie has to do an embarrassing dance and Santana has to reveal her favourite sex position - before things get... edgy.

Because, when Santana spins, it lands on Rachel.

Oh, boy.

"All right, Berry, truth or dare?"

Rachel nervously glances at Quinn, and then Jesse, and then Santana. Sighing heavily, she says, "Truth."

Santana's face spreads into a devilish smirk, and Rachel immediately regrets her decision, though she doubts choosing a dare would have been any better. "Why did you _really_ leave the way you did?"

Rachel blinks once, twice, before her gaze drops. "Santana," she practically pleads, her eyes darting towards Quinn, who's sporting her own pained expression.

"Just tell us the truth, Berry," she says, clearly unsympathetic. "Don't you think we deserve that much?"

Rachel fiddles with the star pendant hanging around her neck. It's a necklace Quinn gave her for her eighteenth birthday, and she takes it off only when she has to - which is mainly during performances where her costumes don't hide it. "What do you want to know?" she asks softly.

"I want to know what possibly possessed you to leave a bed you _shared_ with Quinn in the middle of the night without telling a soul," Santana says. "I want to know why you thought disappearing in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye or an explanation to _any of us_ was a good idea. I want to know why you never called or wrote or visited in _ten years_ , Berry. That's what I want to know."

Rachel opens her mouth, but immediately falters, her heart thundering against her ribcage. "I - "

Quinn stands quite suddenly, practically jerking to attention, and everyone startles. "I need a refill," she says, and then leaves the room without saying another word.

Sam uses the opportunity to glare at Santana. "Just what are you trying to do?" he accuses. "We're _trying_ to have a good time, San."

"Well, I'm _trying_ to find out what made us so fucking low on the totem pole that Broadway Bitch here ditched us at the first sign of success," she says. "Forgive me if I'm curious to know what we did to deserve the royal treatment when we never would have asked her to _choose_."

Rachel drops her gaze and takes the deepest of breaths. All she wants to do is go after Quinn. She just wants to make it _better_ , but she knows she can't exactly do that while hiding truths and keeping her motivations to herself.

But, still, she doesn't want to be discussing this in front of _everyone_.

"Answer the question, Berry," Santana says, and her tone is forced. She's acting cold, but Rachel can hear the pain in her voice. Quinn isn't the only one she hurt when she left the way she did. "What did we do?" she continues. "Weren't we good enough, huh? I mean, you've missed graduations and - " she pauses. "You weren't even there for my _wedding_."

Rachel feels tears pooling in her eyes.

"You've missed so much," Santana says. "Quinn almost _died_. Hiram had a fucking heart attack. I got into law school. Quinn got into medical school. Sam is a qualified engineer. Noah was drafted first pick. Quinn had a _kid_. I got married. Sam's start-up made its first million. Steve's going to be Valedictorian."

"Okay," Rachel snaps, needing her to stop. "Okay," she says softly. "I get it, okay, and I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_. I don't - I don't know what you want me to say because nothing I say will make up for any of that. My reasons don't even matter."

"They do," Santana argues. "I want to know."

"It's nothing to do with you," Rachel says. "It's never been about any of you. It's always been about me and my selfish dreams and the sacrifices I was convinced I _had_ to make to reach the stardom I always envisioned for myself. It's never been about you."

Santana just stares at her in disbelief. "Were you ashamed?"

Rachel clenches her jaw. "Yes."

"Of us?"

Rachel doesn't immediately respond, which is answer enough. "I was convinced that I had to leave this all behind if I wanted to reach the career heights I spent years working towards. I didn't do any of it the way I should have, but - "

"You don't regret it?"

Rachel sighs. "Leaving? No." Her eyes close for a moment. "The way I did? Yes. Not coming home sooner? Of course. Missing all these milestones? Definitely. But not leaving. I was always going to."

"And, we know that," Sam says, suddenly realising that getting all of this out in the open is probably what they do all need. "We've _always_ known that. You've always been meant for so much more. We wouldn't have stopped you."

"Not intentionally." It's Leslie who says it, and she sounds weary. "It would never be intentional, but being in this kind of family would have hindered her career, and she wasn't willing to risk it."

Saying it like that makes it sound even worse, and the truth of it hangs heavy in the air.

"So, you _were_ ashamed of us?" Stacey asks, her voice barely a whisper.

Rachel can't look at any of them. "Mainly, of myself," she confesses. "I wanted success so badly, and I made all the necessary sacrifices to get it."

"You could have had a different kind of success," Noah points out. As someone who is famous, he can understand that. He suspects it would be different if he were gay, but what does he know? He's _used_ his past to build his life and career, and Rachel's hidden hers away.

"I know that now," Rachel says sadly. "I just believed the wrong people, and I got scared. I was so afraid that all my hard work would amount to nothing because I happened to - " she stops abruptly. She hasn't spoken to Jesse about any of this, and she's not about to discuss her teenage feelings for Quinn in front of all these people. "I'm sorry," she says instead. "Please, just know that I'm sorry."

Santana breathes in and out slowly, and then leans back and curls into Brittany's side. She's accomplished _something_ but there's an air of dissatisfaction hanging in the air. Maybe it's because Quinn wasn't here to hear any of it.

Sensing that Quinn probably won't make her return on her own, Leslie rises to her feet to retrieve her. It takes three minutes of awkward silence in the living room for Quinn and Leslie to return, and they both resume their seats.

Quinn barely looks at any of them, particularly Santana, as Noah nudges Rachel to get spinning.

Thankfully, it lands safely on Sam, and they're able to get back to the childish side of the game. There's a block of blue cheese stuffed in Finn's mouth and a song about frog legs and chicken livers sung by Stacey, before Stacey asks Quinn who's the best she's ever kissed.

Quinn just stares at her with wide eyes. "Are you joking?"

Stacey shakes her head. "I've always been curious to know if Cooper can kiss as well as he looks."

Quinn laughs. "Wow. Okay." She doesn't dare look at Rachel or Finn. Technically, she hasn't actually kissed Finn, so there's no comparison to be made there. "Uh, I'd probably say Cooper," she says. "In the beginning, at least. His skills vary with whatever emotion he's feeling." She gets a few blank stares, and she decides to explain. "The beginning was exciting. After Mia was... okay. And then he started with the cheating and the lies, and I could practically feel it in the way he kissed."

"Oh."

Quinn shifts uncomfortably. "But, anyway, yeah, probably Cooper."

Rachel tries not to feel offended. She _was_ younger and less experienced when she and Quinn kissed, and she likes to think she's improved since then. For a moment, she allows herself to think about what it would feel like to kiss Quinn _now_ , and she very quickly has to put a stamp on that. She is _not_ allowed to entertain such thoughts.

When Quinn spins the bottle next, it lands on Santana, and both women look supremely put out by that. "Truth or dare?" Quinn forces out.

Santana, never one to back down, says, "Dare."

Quinn's eyes flash dangerously. "I dare you to stay out of my fucking business," she says, cold and calculated. "It seems as if you have trouble keeping things to yourself, so, please, just fucking _stop_."

Santana's eyes narrow, and they glare at each other for the longest time before the Latina backs down. "Fine," she huffs.

They move on quickly.

Leslie has to eat a sandwich with her feet, Noah has to reveal which one of his teammates is _packing_ , Steve has to keep quiet until his next chance, and Jesse has to sing the Muppet Song.

As if they're all on some kind of rollercoaster of drama, Jesse spins the bottle and it lands on Quinn.

Of course.

Jesse's eyes widen in excitement. "Truth or dare?" he asks immediately.

After a moment, Quinn says, "Truth," with her features slightly pinched.

Surely, 'Truth' is the lesser of two evils.

Surely.

Wrong.

Jesse looks positively delighted, and Quinn actually holds her breath in anticipation. "Are you still in love with my girlfriend?"

Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, and Rachel shoots Jesse the dirtiest look she can muster. Leslie wants to scramble across the room and strangle him. She suspects she's going to have to get in line, based on the reactions of the people in the room.

There's the longest beat of silence as everyone waits for Quinn's response… which is to say nothing.

Instead, she rises to her feet once more and checks her wristwatch. "It's late," she says. "I should get Mia home, so she can wake up in her bed for Christmas Eve. Wouldn't want her to think Santa couldn't find her or something like that." She steps away from the couch and stops in front of where Jesse and Rachel are sitting. She merely stares down at them, trying to figure them out.

She fails.

"You're an asshole," Quinn tells Jesse, and then bends to whisper something in Rachel's ear that nobody else can hear. It's deathly silent when Quinn does leave the room, and nobody makes a move to say or do anything as the blonde woman retrieves a sleeping Mia from LeRoy's study.

Stacey _does_ open the door for them, and then both the Fabray girls are gone.

Noah looks at Jesse. "You're a fucking asshole," he says.

Leslie looks at Rachel. "What did she say to you?"

Neither of them has a response.

* * *

 _You deserve better._ _You deserve to be happy._

Quinn's words keep Rachel awake for half the night, and the other half is spent awake because she's… still maybe pregnant. Everything is just so messed up, and none of it seems to be getting any better. It's just getting worse, and she needs to know. She _needs_ to know. She has decisions to make, and she needs to know.

She deserves better.

She deserves to be happy.

* * *

Quinn wakes to a tiny body clambering all over her, little hands shaking her shoulders and a small voice in her ear. "Mommy! Mommy! It's Chwistmas Eve! It's Chwistmas Eve!"

All Quinn can do is chuckle to herself as she draws Mia into the tightest hug the girl will allow. She can't even imagine how excited this kid is going to be tomorrow. "Merry Christmas Eve, baby," she whispers into Mia's messy hair.

Mia, essentially, ignores her and disentangles herself, jumping up. "Wake up! You have to wake up! Wake up, Mommy!"

Quinn automatically closes a hand around Mia's calf, just in case her daughter decides to go tumbling off the bed. It's happened once before. Thankfully, Mia wasn't hurt, but it definitely gave Quinn quite the scare.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Quinn asks her.

"Pancakes!" she screams.

How Mia has this much energy, Quinn doesn't even know, but it's contagious, and Quinn finds herself growing more and more awake with every second Mia is in her presence.

"What kind of pancakes?" Quinn asks.

Mia stops bouncing, and gives it serious thought. "Choc chip?"

"Is that a question?"

Mia resumes her bouncing. "Choc chip pancakes!" she screams at the top of her lungs, and Quinn is suddenly very glad that they live in a house with its own walls.

Otherwise, her poor neighbours.

* * *

Hiram is beaming when he gets off the phone with Quinn, and he shuffles into the dining room where some members of his family are still having their late breakfast. "She's coming," he says, and the relief that spreads through the room is palpable. "They're just cleaning up their pancake mess, and then they'll head this way."

"Pancakes, huh?" Noah asks. "Five bucks said the kid asked for chocolate chip."

Steve shakes his head. "Nobody's going to get in that with you," he says. "We all _know_ Mia likes nothing else."

"She knows it's the only indulgence Quinn will allow," Santana says, rolling her eyes. "I never would have predicted that Quinn Fabray would be the healthiest person in this family. I mean, do any of you remember how she used to practically _inhale_ bacon?"

"Her poor arteries," Sam says, chuckling.

Despite all the drama of this holiday, Hiram is just relieved that they can still have moments like this. It's not lost on him that this moment probably only exists because Rachel and Jesse are no longer sitting at the table, and he's definitely not about to bring it up. He could sense a new type of tension in the air, which was the main reason he decided to call Quinn.

This is her home, and he won't let either Rachel or Jesse keep her away from it.

They're not enough.

Her family is _more_.

* * *

Jesse waits until Rachel is alone in the kitchen to… apologise. It visibly pains him to admit he's done something wrong, but can he really be blamed for the way he's reacting to merely the _idea_ of Quinn? She and Rachel clearly have history, and there's a new tension in the air. What is Jesse supposed to think?

"I'm sorry," he says, startling her as she retrieves a bottle of water from the pantry.

Rachel's jaw clenches and she refuses to look at him. "I don't want to talk about it, Jesse," she says. "I don't want to talk at all."

His eyes narrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She sighs tiredly. "I think we both know what I mean by that."

"You are not _seriously_ breaking up with me right now," he says, his voice somewhat haunting.

"And why not?" she questions, equally ghostly. "We _both_ knew this is where we were heading when you left me in my apartment, busy on the phone with your fucking _publicist_ after I told you - " she stops suddenly, deflating. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Rachel," he says in disbelief.

"I'm done," she says. "I've made myself pretty clear that I didn't want you _here_ , but you haven't listened to a word I've said. But, that's what you do, so I shouldn't even be surprised. You don't _listen_ to me."

He steps towards her, his mind thinking up ways to make her take her words back.

"Please," she says. "Please can you just go?"

Jesse, predictably, doesn't react the way he _should_ , and he practically snarls. "Why? So, you can be free for Quinn to swoop in?" he hisses.

Rachel sighs heavily. "No, Jesse," she says. "I just don't want to deal with this or you. Why are you _insisting_ on pushing this when you've made it clear to me we will never see eye-to-eye on the most important thing that could make or break a relationship. I'm _not_ budging on this, regardless of what you want."

"What _I_ want," he snaps. "You don't even care about what I want."

"Right now, yes, I don't care at all about what you want," she says. "I'm not going to do what you want just because it doesn't fit into _your_ little idea of a perfect life. I'm postponing my tour. I may not even go on it. And I'm going to have this baby whether you like it or not."

Jesse growls. "And, what, I don't get a say?"

"You've said _plenty_ ," she says.

"I get to make decisions too," he says.

Rachel shakes her head.

"That's _my_ baby," he hisses.

"That you don't even want!" she snaps right back. "So, spare me the hysterics, St James. Stop acting as if you suddenly _care_. You want nothing to do with a child and let's not start kidding ourselves now."

"So, what, I'm just a sperm donor, so you can build your perfect family with Quinn?"

In all honesty, Rachel hasn't given much thought to that, but she pushes it from her mind. This has nothing to do with Quinn, and everything to do with _her_.

Jesse latches onto the silence. "I'm right about her, you know?"

Rachel's jaw clenches. "And just what are you so _right_ about?"

"She's still in love with you."

Rachel sighs. She can't exactly say _good, because I'm still in love with her too_ , now can she? "Whatever Quinn may or may not feel for me has no bearing on _our_ relationship," she says as calmly as she can. "We were falling apart long before any of this even happened. It's over, Jesse. It's been over for a long time."

He just stares at her, waiting for her to take it back. When she remains silent, he huffs in annoyance. "You're making a mistake."

"No, I'm not," she says. "I should have done this a long time ago."

"She won't want you now, you know," he says.

Rachel isn't going to drag Quinn into this. She deserves so much more than Jesse using her as someone to blame for the eventual and inevitable demise of their relationship. "Goodbye, Jesse," is all she says.

"You're going to realise your mistake, and you're going to come crawling back."

Rachel doesn't react. "Goodbye, Jesse," she says again.

With a huff and a growl, Jesse finally turns and stalks out of the kitchen, leaving the door swinging violently. Rachel practically gasps when she sees Santana standing there.

Of course.

"How much of that did you hear?" Rachel asks, visibly deflating.

"Enough."

* * *

"So, you're pregnant?"

Rachel sits back in her father's leather chair, her body relaxing despite the fact she's in LeRoy's study. "I don't actually know," she admits quietly. "Quinn's still waiting for the blood tests to come back."

"Quinn?"

Rachel looks away for a beat. "She's running my blood."

Santana blinks. "Let me get this straight: you went to _Quinn_ \- your ex who you _destroyed_ when you decided to leave town - for a pregnancy test for a baby that you may or may not have conceived with the single douchiest person on the fucking planet?"

Rachel drops her gaze. "She's the only one I trust."

Santana sighs heavily, deflating. "God, this is all just so fucking fucked up."

"I know."

"No, I really don't think you do," Santana says. "Jess St Jackass is at least right about one thing, Berry. Quinn is definitely still in love with you."

Rachel traps her bottom lip between her teeth, saying nothing.

Santana sighs. "Well, of course, you are too, aren't you?"

Still, she remains silent.

"Unbelievable."

Rachel purses her lips. "Is it really?"

"Well, no," Santana concedes. "If I were more of a romantic, I'm sure I could come up with a handful of ways to describe the _kismet_ or whatever all of this is. But this is still just so fucking fucked up."

Rachel fiddles with the handles on the drawers of the desk for a moment, before something clicks in her brain. Without responding to Santana, she starts to open the drawers, systematically searching them for _something_.

"What are you doing?" Santana asks, frowning at her.

Rachel ignores her when she attempts to open the last drawer, only to find it's locked. She lifts her head. "Still know how to pick locks?"

"Are you kidding me?" she says, jumping up and moving towards the drawer. "As exciting as this all is, _why_ are we breaking into Lee's desk?"

Rachel presses her lips together. "I'll tell you if we find what I suspect we're going to find," she says.

Santana just shrugs.

Rachel finds exactly what she's looking for. Two letters. Written in her shaking scrawl, obvious tears dripped onto the paper. One addressed to her family, and the other addressed to Quinn.

"I've never seen these before," Santana says.

Rachel isn't sure _how_ she's supposed to feel, and the flurry of emotions is making her nauseous.

"This one's addressed to Quinn," Santana says, frowning at the words. She reads the first two lines before she lifts her gaze to meet Rachel's. "You know, this entire time, all she's wanted was to know _why_ ," she says.

Rachel just takes the letter back from her and folds it carefully.

"Ten years, Rachel," Santana says, her shoulders sagging. "She's been wondering why for _ten fucking years_ , and Lee's known this entire time." She knows she should feel rage. She should be blinded by fury, but she just can't muster it. She's just so utterly defeated by what she's learned, and she doesn't even truly know the reasons why any of this has happened. "I - I don't understand."

Rachel closes her eyes. "Do you ever wonder who bought my plane ticket?" she asks softly.

Santana's head snaps up. "He didn't _make_ you leave," she points out.

"I know," Rachel concedes. "But he made me believe I had very little choice."

Santana runs a hand over her hair. "This is seriously fucking fucked up."

And, really, all Rachel can do is agree.


	5. Hang On, Hang On

**Part Five**

 **Hang On, Hang On**

* * *

"Merry Christmas Eve," Leslie says, crushing Quinn a hug that actually _hurts_. "I am _so glad_ you're here."

Quinn frowns as she pulls out of the embrace. "What's going on?"

Leslie rolls her eyes. "Too many weird things."

"I don't know what that means."

Leslie slips her arm through Quinn's and drags her to the kitchen, after making sure Mia has made it safely to the living room where Sam and Steve are watching a Christmas film.

"Well, if you must know, Fabray," Leslie says. "Your buddy Noah is acting _strange_. He can barely look at me, which is confusing. I mean, I don't recall us having a fight, and I definitely haven't said anyone else's name during sex in a while."

Quinn lets out an unexpected laugh. "You've actually done that? More than once?"

Leslie just waves a hand, dismissing it as unimportant. "What I'm trying to say is that there's all sorts of crazy shit going on here."

"What else?" Quinn asks once they enter the kitchen. She releases Leslie and heads to the kettle, suddenly wishing for some hot chocolate. "I don't think Noah acting out of the ordinary is enough to warrant... whatever it is you're doing right now."

Leslie stares at her for a moment, hearing something very specific in Quinn's voice. "You know what's up with him, don't you?"

Quinn keeps her face neutral as she reaches for ceramic cups from the cabinet. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says, and Leslie could almost believe her, if she didn't know Quinn Fabray as well as she does. Realising that, Quinn backtracks. "And, even if I did, I probably wouldn't tell you."

Leslie huffs, childishly folding her arms across her chest. "Whatever," she says. "That's not the only weird thing going on over here."

"Oh, yeah?"

Leslie steps towards her, lowering the volume of her voice. "Santana and Rachel are suddenly all buddy-buddy," she says conspiratorially, which, yes, is news to Quinn.

The blonde frowns. "When did that happen?"

"I don't know," Leslie says with a shrug. "Last night. This morning. Does it matter? They've been inseparable since I woke up, which, okay _was_ an hour ago, but whatever."

Quinn's frown deepens. "That makes no sense."

Leslie gives her a pointed look. "See? It's not so nice being left in the dark, is it?"

Quinn laughs. "You're such a kid, sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

Both Quinn and Leslie turn to the new voice, to find Santana smirking at them both. There's a slight edge to it, though, and Quinn doesn't miss the slightly sympathetic look the Latina shoots _her_ way. She definitely knows something, but Quinn isn't going to ask.

She meant it when she said she wanted Santana to stay out of her business. She's never quite forgiven her for revealing to _the world_ that Rachel took off the night she took Quinn's virginity, which, yes, is as mortifying as it sounds. It doesn't help that Santana _was_ drunk at the time. It changes nothing, from Quinn's point of view, who had to endure a summer of heartbreak and... ridicule, regarding her apparent skills in the bedroom.

God, it _still_ makes her shudder just thinking about it.

"Can I get in on that action?" Santana asks, gesturing to the two cups Quinn has laid out. "I think your hot chocolate is the only thing I miss about you, Q."

Quinn rolls her eyes, allowing them to have this moment. "Oh, har har," she says, faking a laugh even as she reaches for a third cup. "Don't start lying to us now, Lopez; you miss my sunny disposition."

Santana scoffs. "What is this? Seattle? You, Fabray, are _no_ ray of sunshine."

Leslie looks between them. "Pot, meet kettle," she says, and all three of them laugh at how absurd they're being. What on earth are they even talking about?

Leslie prefers when they're like this. Quinn and Santana have personalities that tend to clash because they're so similar, and she's just relieved to see that they _can_ get along, even if they _are_ jabbing at each other.

Playfully.

Leslie isn't holding her breath that it's going to last, but she'll take the little victories as they come.

And, Leslie really likes winning.

She watches, silently, as Quinn and Santana bicker while Quinn makes their hot chocolate with soy milk. Which, of course, draws numerous complaints from the Latina. Quinn ignores them, as she is wont to do, and Leslie stifles her laughter at how exasperated they can get with each other.

Once their cups are ready to go, Leslie makes quick work of collecting hers, and then makes herself scarce. She imagines Quinn and Santana have a few words they need to say to each other, and it's best if they do it as soon as possible.

But, because they _are_ Quinn and Santana, the two of them end up standing in heavy silence for close to seven full minutes before Santana _finally_ gives in. Quinn always has been a little bit more patient than her, which, coupled with her stubbornness, would have them standing there for hours.

"So," Santana starts; "I should probably apologise."

Quinn waits, silent and expectant.

Santana let out an exasperated breath. "I'm sorry, okay," she says. "I know I shouldn't have asked it the way I did, but I needed to know. We all needed to know. You might have been affected the most, but we were all hurt by her just up and leaving, and I wanted to know why."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "You suck at apologies."

"Well, I'm sorry about that too, then."

Quinn shakes her head, clearly not amused. "Santana."

"Quinn."

"I know you think you're trying to protect me or whatever and, as much as I love you for it, your way _hurts_ me, sometimes." Quinn drops her gaze. "I love that you get angry on my behalf, and you have no idea how much I appreciate you going into battle for me, but I'm going to ask you just this once to let me handle _my_ relationship with Rachel by myself, okay?"

Santana presses her lips together, clearly reluctant.

"If it all falls apart, then it will," she says. "It won't be pretty, but I'll survive it. I just - I _need_ you to stay out of it. I promise I'll tell you everything. Just, let me make my mistakes. Let me get hurt, if that's in the cards for me." She smiles sadly. "Be my sister, not my warrior. I don't need an army. I just need my family." She breathes out. "Just, you."

And, okay, crying was _so_ not on the cards for Santana, but here she is.

Quinn just spreads her arms, and Santana willingly walks into them.

"I fucking hate you," Santana mumbles into Quinn's sweater. "Like, a lot. A hell of a lot."

Quinn soothingly rubs her back.

"I still feel like it's my fault," Santana admits, unable to look at the blonde's face.

Quinn tenses. "What?"

Santana pulls back, wiping at her eyes. "I - I almost _knew_ she would leave you behind," she says carefully. "I had a feeling, and I tried to protect you from it, but I - " she stops. "I'm not really good at this whole protecting _you_ thing, am I?"

"I love that you try."

Santana shakes her head. "I don't know what I would do differently."

"Don't worry," Quinn says; "I have a list."

Santana lets out an unexpected laugh, and then punches Quinn's shoulder. "You're an idiot."

"Yes, yes I am."

"I really am sorry," Santana whispers. "For all of it."

Quinn pulls her into another hug. "Look at you," she muses; "you're already getting better at it."

* * *

"Rachel?"

The brunette in question lifts her head from where she's contemplating her next Chess move against Stacey to see Sam standing in the archway to the living room, looking sheepish. "Hey, Sam, what's up?" she asks, smiling at him.

"Jesse's at the door," he says with a slight grimace.

Rachel scowls at merely the mention of his name, and everyone in the room finds it particularly amusing. "Again?" she asks, sounding exasperated.

"He's refusing to leave until you talk to him."

She growls in frustration. "I don't get what about the words 'I don't want to talk to you' he finds so difficult to understand," she mutters to herself, and she has a feeling that Jesse and Kurt are in cahoots, if the constant buzzing of her phone is anything to go by.

Noah takes pity on her, slowly rising to his feet and patting her shoulder. "I'll get rid of him," he says, and the tone of his voice merely lets them know that he's probably going to enjoy it a little too much.

* * *

"Mommy?"

Quinn drifts her attention from her daughter's little feet, where she's untying Mia's shoes to remove them, up to her face. "What's up, baby?" she asks.

"When do we open presents?"

Under normal circumstances, the family would do their exchange of presents _on_ Christmas Day, but Mia isn't going to be around then, so they made a collective decision to open gifts tonight instead. "After dinner," Quinn assures her. "Think you can wait that long?"

Mia shakes her head, and Quinn chuckles to herself.

"Think you can at least _try_? For Mommy."

This time, Mia nods.

Quinn completes the task of ridding her daughter of shoes, so she can get more comfortable, and then presses a kiss to her forehead. "Come on, I think I heard that Auntie Leslie has something she wants to show you."

Mia bounces off Quinn's knee, and Quinn has no choice but to follow.

* * *

" _Guess who's back, back again_ ," Santana practically sings merely an hour later. " _Jesse's back; tell a friend_."

Rachel lets out a long-suffering groan, her eyes resisting the urge to look towards where Quinn and Leslie are sitting with Mia sandwiched between them on one of the couches as they read _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_.

"As irritating as I find him; one _does_ have to commend is staying power," Santana comments. "The fucker is stubborn."

"Santana," Quinn automatically reprimands the use of language, even though she doesn't even lift her head to look at any of them.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Fucking _Mom_ powers," she mutters under her breath, and Rachel, Brittany and Stacey all giggle. Santana looks at Rachel. "Want me to get rid of him?"

"Please."

"Oh, this'll be fun."

* * *

In general, it doesn't take all that much to overwhelm Rachel. They're already a huge family - she's now unused to the noise and excitement - but they've added extra members in the time she's been away, and it's _a lot_.

She's _overwhelmed_.

Hiram must sense it because he takes pity on her and sends her to the kitchen with Santana and Brittany to prepare hot chocolate for everyone while Steve, Stacey and Mia hand out all the presents from the bulging pile under the tree. It's quite the task, with the sheer volume of people around.

Predictably, Mia's pile is bigger than _she_ is, and Quinn is mildly annoyed that her family didn't listen to her when she explicitly told them they weren't to spoil her daughter. Mia doesn't seem to notice, though, because she's the apple of everyone's eye.

Quinn doesn't grumble for too long, because she _wished_ for this when she was four years old. Every night, as she cried herself to sleep, she prayed for a family to love her and, ten years later, she found them.

Or, they found her.

Well, Hiram did.

Quinn has spent a lot of time discussing the implications of that discovery with her various therapists over the years. In a particularly gruelling session, the one in Boston made Quinn imagine what her life would have been like if she were left to fend for herself on the streets. It's a terrifying thought, and Quinn spent most of the session in a state of panic and full-blown hyperventilating.

There are many ways her life could have gone.

She could have ended up in jail.

She could have ended up addicted to drugs.

She could even ended up as a prostitute.

She could have ended up dead, by her own hand or by someone else's.

She would never have _this_ , she thinks, as she looks around the room. It shifts everything into perspective, and her heart grows still that the worst thing to happen to her since she was fourteen is waking up to an empty bed and a broken heart.

Physically, she's fine.

She still has scars from her time with the Fabrays, from her time with unsavoury foster families, from her time on the streets, and from the car accident. Her therapist told her not to view her scars as something negative, but as something that shows she's survived.

But, survived what?

It's never even been about the _physical_ scars, anyway. It's the mental and emotional ones that hurt the most. You can't even _see_ them, so how are you supposed to get them to heal? She's been working on that since she was ten years old, bloody and battered and bruised, and _knew_ , without a doubt, that her father would end up killing her the next time he got drunk enough to forget the person in front of his fists was his _daughter_.

Quinn didn't think much more about it after that.

Anywhere had to be better than that.

Which was proved wrong, over and over. And, when she was thirteen, she finally had enough of being bounced around, feeling unwanted and being constantly abused. It was a cold day in Fall when she packed her meagre belongings, and then left for good.

She looked back to make sure nobody was following, but they had to _care_ to do that.

Then, _this_.

This family.

This home.

This life.

 _Rachel_.

Quinn tried to fight it.

She didn't accept her position in this family for a long while, and she's always wondered if it was her subconscious telling her that she would never truly come to see Rachel as a _sister_ because, from the moment they met, a part of Quinn _knew_ the girl was always going to be someone special to her. Quinn thinks she started falling in love from the moment they shook hands, albeit slowly and dangerously.

"Hey," Leslie says, getting her attention. "You okay?"

Quinn isn't sure how to answer that question, but she has some semblance of an idea when Rachel, Santana and Brittany reenter the room, each of them holding a tray of drinks with happy smiles on their faces. Quinn's eyes focus on Rachel, and she feels something settle within her gut.

"Yeah," Quinn eventually answers Leslie. "I'm okay."

"You sure?"

And, for the first time in a long time, Quinn actually is.

* * *

"We should really start a wrapping paper recycling plant," Sam suggests as he watches Mia repeatedly throw herself onto the massive pile of leftover wrapping paper from all their opened presents.

The entire process was complete and utter _chaos_.

But completely wonderful, at the same time.

Most of them are _still_ buzzing.

Hiram immediately slipped into his new bed slippers, and Mia spent at least fifteen minutes just sitting on his feet, claiming that she was keeping them warm. While Quinn wasn't able to find a _Barbie_ guitar case for Sam, they did get him an entire selection of _pink_ guitar accessories.

Leslie and Noah bought a complete set of Dr Seuss books for Mia, which is really a present for Quinn.

Rachel, having been caught off guard by the sheer number of people present, went with the safe option of getting gift cards for everyone, which goes down relatively well. It's _something_ , Rachel concludes, and that's all there is to it. She doesn't know them well enough to be personable, and she didn't really have all that much time.

At a certain point in the evening, Rachel guiltily wonders about Jesse's whereabouts. She doesn't know if she's being entirely fair to him, but it's not her fault that what she needs right now - and for the past few days - is some space. They'll have to talk about it again, she's sure, but that's not happening tonight.

Instead, Rachel is going to sit here and be completely present as she soaks up the sounds and warmth of the family she forced herself not to _want_ in fear of what it would mean to her career prospects.

She feels guilty and ridiculous about it now, and she cringes at how naive she was even to think that any of her success would mean remotely anything without them. She wonders how people live like that. She's been in various stages of misery since she left, and she can't help the sheer confusion and, well, anger she feels whenever she looks at LeRoy.

He ensured she gave this all up, because _he_ couldn't.

Rachel sighs, and Santana shoots her a curious look. She just smiles in response, lifts her vegan hot chocolate in a silent toast, and tries to remember that there's a way for her to have both.

It's a bitter pill to swallow when she acknowledges that she always could have, if she'd only been braver and less easily influenced by the acknowledgement of her fears.

* * *

.

* * *

"Mommy! Mommy!" Mia yells, ripping Quinn from sleep. "Santa came! Santa came!"

Quinn suppresses her groan because, no, she isn't going to waste a second of this morning. She told herself, a long time ago, that she was going to enjoy every moment with her daughter, and not take any opportunity to be with her for granted.

So, surprising them both, Quinn practically launches herself out of bed, scooping Mia into her arms on her way and flying her through the air.

The excited shriek she gets in response is worth every ache in Quinn's spine.

"How do you know it was Santa who came?" Quinn asks, her fingers tickling Mia's sides as she carries her down the stairs. "What if it was his brother?"

"That's silly, Mommy," Mia says, giggling. "It was Santa. It's his _job_."

Quinn smiles to herself. "I'm pretty sure it's _your_ job to put your toys away, and yet why do I end up doing it sometimes?"

Predictably, Mia doesn't have a response for that.

Quinn just laughs as she sets her daughter on the kitchen island when they get to their destination. "So, what'll it be, Sweets? Pancakes again?"

Mia gives it some serious thought, and then says, "Waffles," with all the seriousness of a four-year-old. "With choca syrup."

Quinn sighs internally, and then proceeds to give her daughter exactly what she wants.

* * *

The entire morning is bittersweet for Quinn, because she knows it's coming to an end. It's what she decided with Cooper. She would get Christmas morning with Mia, and then she's supposed to drop her favourite person off with her father for the rest of the week.

It hurts.

It _really_ hurts.

Quinn will never show it to Mia, because none of it is her fault. Quinn will never keep her from her father. As someone who had parents who didn't want her, she'll never do anything to keep her kid from a parent who very clearly _does_.

At this point, she knows Cooper feels the same way, and that's why there will always be a part of her that will always love him.

Even if she hates him, sometimes.

"Mommy?"

Quinn snaps to attention, her hands pausing where she's packing one of Mia's sweaters into her tiny suitcase for her stay with her father. She already has clothes at Cooper's, but they make a point of carting around her favourite items because she has a tendency to throw a tantrum when she's missing her beloved articles.

"Yes, baby?"

"Are you sad?"

Quinn's automatic response is to say no, but she's trying not to lie to her daughter. Some things require it, she acknowledges, but this definitely doesn't. "A little," she admits. "I'm just going to miss you."

Mia beams at her, and then moves to hug her legs tightly. "I miss you too, Mommy."

Quinn breathes out slowly, her heart melting. "But I'm going to see you in a few days," she says, clearing her throat; "and you're going to have such a great time with your daddy."

"We're going to play in the snow!" she says excitedly.

Quinn bends to kiss the top of her head. "I heard," she says. "We should pack your yellow boots then, shouldn't we?"

Mia nods. "And my pink hat."

"Of course," Quinn says with a slight roll of her eyes. "How can we forget the pink hat?"

* * *

"Hello?"

"Rach?"

"Hey, Quinn," Rachel says, just _so_ relieved to hear her voice, even if it's only over the home phone. "Were you looking for Dad, because he's - "

"Actually," Quinn interrupts; "I was calling for you."

"Oh?"

"I don't actually have your number, so I figured the house phone was a safe bet," she says. "I, umm, I just dropped Mia off with Cooper and I was wondering..." she trails off, clears her throat, and then speaks again. "Umm, are you busy right now?"

"No," is her immediate answer because, God, even if she were mid-performance, she would abandon it in an instant.

"Good."

* * *

"Hey."

"Hey."

Quinn glances nervously at her hands before finally meeting Rachel's gaze. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for calling."

The blonde offers her a crooked smile. "I thought you might need some respite from the chaos that is preparation for Christmas dinner."

"I was having traumatic flashbacks," she admits, returning Quinn's smile. "I definitely needed to get out of the house."

For a moment, they just stare at each other, and then Quinn offers her arm. "So, I was thinking we could just get some coffee. Maybe talk a little."

"I'd like that," she says, linking her arm with Quinn's with zero hesitation. It feels natural, and she tries her best not to focus on that. It will do neither of them any good, because their lives are just too different now.

They've always been different, really.

Despite whatever people say; they were always destined for different things, and Rachel accepts that they both had to accomplish those things without the other. It doesn't make anything she did right or offer any kind of justification for _how_ she left but they did have to succeed separately for them to be able to have a fighting _chance_ in their own lives.

But, now, everything is too hard and everything is too difficult.

Quinn opens the door for her when they get to the Lima Bean, and there's a tiny part of her that swoons. "What are you having?" Quinn asks as soon as they're safely within the warmth of the establishment, gesturing for her to find them a table.

"Oh, you don't have to - "

Quinn raises a hand to silence her. "I know you're a famous Broadway star and everything, but I _think_ I can afford to buy you a cup of coffee without breaking my budget."

Rachel just shakes her head in amusement. "I'll just have whatever you're having."

"You might regret that," she says, and there's a lilt of flirting in her tone that catches them both off guard. "Uh, I'll be right back," she says awkwardly, and then heads to the counter to place their order.

Rachel watches her go for a long moment, before she makes her way to the back of the coffee shop and finds them a secluded table. In this town, she's more likely to remain just another woman, bundled up against the cold, and she's really enjoying the relative anonymity.

She's also _really_ enjoying being able to spend time with Quinn.

* * *

It's as awkward as she expects it to be when Quinn comes to the table with two drinks. Rachel has to remind herself that this is just Quinn, and this is just coffee.

They're fine.

 _She's_ fine.

What's the worst that could happen?

"I didn't actually get you any _coffee_ ," Quinn says, setting their drinks down. "You may or may not have to stop drinking it for a while."

Rachel's face actually falls. "No... coffee?" she asks, and she sounds devastated.

Quinn actually chuckles. "I think the lack of coffee will be the least of your worries, believe me."

Rachel can't stop herself from wondering what Quinn was like when she was pregnant. She must have _glowed_ , or whatever other cliched words are used to describe the apparent beauty of pregnancy.

They talk a little about Mia, but it's obvious Quinn isn't really in the mood to discuss the daughter she just had to hand over to her father. It hurts in ways she's never been able to express. Mia is kind of her entire life, and she finds it difficult to be _anybody_ without her little mini-me at her hip.

It's almost inevitable that they come to the topic of Jesse. Quinn isn't even sure how they get to him, but they do, and she almost wishes her drink were extra hot, just so she could burn her tongue or something.

Still, Quinn asks, "Have you guys... talked... since...?"

Rachel sips at her drink, unsure how to respond. No, she and Jesse haven't really talked since the breakup, and she's trying to avoid it as much as possible. Jesse said things, and she said things right back.

As far as she's concerned, everything is pretty clear on that front.

"He keeps coming by the house," Rachel eventually says. "Noah's been running interference, but…" she trails off. "It's Christmas, and I can't help feeling terrible about… everything."

"What?"

She presses her lips together. "He's under the impression we've fallen apart because of you, which isn't the case at all."

Quinn holds her breath.

"We were struggling _before_ , and then the possibility of a baby just tipped us over the edge, and he thinks that just because he followed me home; everything was just supposed to be magically fixed. It doesn't work like that."

"You really don't want to be with him anymore?" Quinn asks, her voice shaky, daring to hope.

"To be honest, right now, there's still a lot I'm not sure about, but my relationship with Jesse isn't one of those things," she answers truthfully. "Still, everything is just so complicated, and I just - " she stops. "I think I need to _know_ first, you know?"

Quinn nods solemnly. "I wish I could get the results sooner."

"I know," Rachel says, smiling sadly. "I mean, I _want_ children," she says; "but not like this. I wanted to be _excited_ about my baby, but all I'm feeling is… dread." She scrubs her face with her hands. "And I don't even _know_ if there's a baby yet."

Quinn winces.

"I want children, and Jesse doesn't, _ever_ ," she says. "It was always bound to break us up at some point. Why not now?"

"Don't use the baby as an excuse," Quinn returns. "To stay together or break up. Cooper and I sort of did that. The long distance was difficult for us, and then I found out I was pregnant, and we... skipped several steps in our relationship. I don't know if that's the reason he turned out to be a lying, cheating bastard, but I can only imagine that things would be different if Mia had waited just a few years to come along."

Rachel eyes her carefully. "Any regrets?"

"Sometimes," she confesses; "but there's very little I would change. I have Mia now, and she's all that matters. Whatever shit I've had to go through to get here; it's all been worth it because I have this amazing, lovely baby girl whom I love with everything I am. Honestly, Rach, this life I'm living doesn't get any better than that."

Rachel feels her chest swell with emotion. Seeing Quinn talk about Mia is pure perfection. There's this lightness in her expression that makes Rachel want to reach across the table and touch her; maybe even pull her in for a kiss.

Because now she can.

She _shouldn't,_ but she _can_.

She really wants to.

Quinn's smile falters the longer Rachel just stares at her. "Uh, is everything okay?"

Rachel blinks rapidly to bring her thoughts back to respectable ones. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that," she says. "Just imagining the future."

"Is it good?"

"It's wonderful."

* * *

Surprisingly or not, Quinn and Rachel pull up in front of the Berry home at exactly the same time. Leslie sees them from the window in the living room, and she's unsure what to feel about it. She knows Quinn only _after_ the entire Rachel-Debacle, as she's come to refer to it as, so she can't be accurate in thinking that Rachel is intrinsically _bad_ for Quinn.

Still, Leslie is protective of her blonde in a way that maybe Santana isn't.

Leslie's protection doesn't _hurt_ Quinn.

It rather blankets her, shields her.

Leslie and Noah are quite good at it now and, if Noah isn't being too wary of whatever Quinn and Rachel currently have going on, then Leslie isn't going to get too overly worked up about it.

But, then again, Noah doesn't seem to be paying much attention to anything at all. It's almost as if he's in a daze, and she's trying desperately not to worry about it, but she can't help it. The two of them have already been through quite a bit, and she's doing her best not to freak out about his behaviour.

Is this it?

Is this the moment he decides he wants more than she can give him?

It _definitely_ doesn't help that Noah drags Quinn away with him as soon as the blonde steps through the front door, leaving Rachel and Leslie to stare after them, both of them wearing perplexed expressions.

"What's that all about?" Rachel asks, glancing at Leslie.

"I have no idea," Leslie murmurs. "No idea, at all."

* * *

"It's snowing!" Steve shouts from the kitchen, the second he spots the falling flakes through the window. "It's snowing!"

Noah glances at Quinn. "How old is he, again?"

"It's _snow_ , Puck," she says, eyes wide and smile bright. "Don't tell me the little kid in you isn't even a _little_ _bit_ excited." She laughs happily, looking younger than he's seen her in _years_. "It's snowing!" she echoes Steve's shouts of excitement.

Noah half-expects Mia to echo her mother and, when she doesn't, he feels a tug so acutely in his chest that he's certain his entire body jerks from the force of it.

Quinn just smiles sadly at him, as if she knows exactly what he's feeling, even though she's probably feeling it a hundred times worse. She pats his cheek gently, and then reaches up to kiss his cheek. "You're going to make a great dad one day, you know that?" she whispers.

"Yeah?"

She nods. "The best." Then, her facial expression flipping so quickly, she shoves him away, and then yells, "Snowball fight!" She shoots him a challenging look, and then races out of the house.

Noah stares at the space she vacated for a moment, and then goes charging after her.

Everyone else follows after them.

* * *

Hiram barely knows what to say to his brood when they come trudging back into the house half an hour later, all of them red from the cold and exertion, and sopping wet from rolling around in the snow. They look so much like _kids_ , and he feels his heart grow to an impossible size.

"Not on my carpet!" he suddenly yells, and Sam stops in his tracks. Hiram glares at him, though there's a playful lilt to it. "All of you, upstairs, now," he instructs. "Get cleaned up, dry and warm. I won't have any of you dragging us all to the hospital because you managed to catch pneumonia on Christmas Day."

Quinn pouts. "Don't you even want to know who won?" she asks, and he's always been so powerless to her charms.

"Who won, Honey?" he asks and, really, he should know better.

Quinn's answering grin is mischief personified, and Hiram reacts far too late. "You, H," she says excitedly. " _You_ won."

And then he finds himself buried in a wet Quinn hug, that turns into a wet _group_ hug.

Hiram has to join them all upstairs, a happy glower on his face as he tries not to shiver.

* * *

At some point in the late afternoon, Quinn grows quiet.

Dangerously so, and Santana and Rachel exchange a worried look.

The Latina cocks an eyebrow, and Rachel rises to her feet immediately, moving towards Quinn. She's initially unsure what she's going to say or do, but then Quinn looks up at her, and she cautiously holds out her hand.

Quinn is visibly hesitant, but she eventually takes the offered hand and allows herself to be pulled to her feet.

Rachel, forcing her breathing to remain steady, leads the way out of the living room and into LeRoy's study. Mercifully, it's empty, and she pulls Quinn towards the pullout couch that is sometimes her bed. They haven't been in here together since the day everything changed for the worse all those years ago, and the memories still haunt them both.

Rachel has more to deal with, but she's unsure if Quinn wants to hear any of that.

"Are you supposed to distract me?" Quinn asks, dropping down onto the couch and ignoring the way her back complains.

Rachel grimaces at the sound of joints popping. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"What?" she asks. Then: "Oh, that, yeah, I'm totally fine. It's just the cold. I do all the required exercises and go for my annual check-up. I'm disgustingly healthy, really."

Rachel just smiles as she sits next to her, far enough not to be weird and close enough that Quinn can feel the heat of her skin. They definitely aren't touching, but Rachel suspects that's going to change. They're about to discuss one of those difficult topics again, and she can only hope it goes better this time around.

"I have several ways to distract you," Rachel says, and then winces when she replays those words in her head. "I really didn't mean for that to come out sounding so... dirty."

Quinn chuckles. "You totally did. Don't deny it."

Rachel relaxes somewhat at Quinn's teasing.

They can have this: an easy conversation.

It's okay.

They're okay.

"I found the letters," she says quietly, reaching for Quinn's hand. "I left them on the kitchen counter when I left Lima. I wanted to explain it to you, in my own cowardly way, but you didn't even see yours, and I just can't stop thinking about what it must have been like for you."

Quinn clenches her jaw. "It's really something to love and hate someone at the same time," she says.

Rachel's fingers tighten around Quinn's. "I _wanted_ you to know that it was never about _you_ , Quinn. It was always about me and the future I was so convinced I wanted. The future I allowed myself to believe I could never have if we stayed together."

"Because I'm a woman?"

Rachel doesn't respond.

"Because I was never going to make it out of Lima?"

Still, she says nothing.

Quinn sighs. "But it wasn't about me?"

"Maybe, in my head, I made it about you to try to alleviate my own guilt," she says. "I was selfish, Quinn. The ugliest kind of selfish, because I didn't even _think_ about what I would be leaving behind when I left the way I did. I just - I knew I had to go, and I _couldn't_ take you with me, even when you offered." She sucks in a deep breath, suddenly feeling hollow. "I'm sorry I left the way I did. I'm - I'm sorry I left at all."

Quinn closes her eyes for a long moment. "I was going to follow you."

"I know."

"We would have made it work."

"I know that, too."

"It was going to be difficult, but we would have figured it out together."

"I know, Quinn."

"We could have been happy."

"Believe me, I know."

"Then, why did you leave me?" Quinn asks. "Why did you suddenly give up on me when you've always been my biggest cheerleader?"

Without responding, Rachel reaches into the pocket of her coat and produces a crumpled envelope. "I - I found it in Daddy's desk," she says, still unsure how she's supposed to feel about the fact that her father obviously _hid_ the letters from her family. "I reread it, and I don't even believe the words I wrote. It doesn't even sound like me, but these are the words I wrote to you back then. These are the words I wanted you to have when I left. It's my attempt to explain myself, and I'm a little bit glad you didn't read them back then."

"Would they have hurt more?"

"They were always going to hurt, Quinn," she says sadly. "I should have known that back then, but I know it now. I stand by my feeling that I never meant to hurt you, even though I ended up doing that and then some."

"I hate that you felt you had to make a decision for both of us. I _know_ I'm younger than you, but I was old enough to know what I could and couldn't handle, and I promise I could have handled you and everything that came with you."

"How, Quinn?" she questions. "How could you have known that when even _I_ didn't know? I still don't. _I_ can barely handle it myself, and I - " her voice catches. " _How_?"

"Because I love you."

Rachel just stares at her for the longest time, unsure what to say or do.

"Let's stop kidding ourselves here, Rach," Quinn says. "Of course, I'm still in love with you. Please don't act surprised by that truth because it's insulting to us both. I'm so in love with you that I would follow you anywhere. _Still_. I'm so lost in everything you are that I still get lost just thinking about it. Do you understand? Do you see, Rachel? Do you have any idea the way I love you, because I don't think you've ever truly understood? I doubt you would have left me the way you did if you had.

"Did they call it a passing phase? A meaningless high school romance? An unnecessary mountain you'll have to overcome in your career? All those things, and you're still here, sitting across from me and telling me you're sorry. I know I've never been able to get over you, and the way you're so bent out of shape about this entire thing merely proves that you haven't managed it either."

Rachel spends a moment just _thinking_. She keeps her eyes on Quinn, searching her face for something. Whether she finds it or not, Quinn doesn't know. "Quinn," she eventually says; "this isn't... easy."

"What?"

"This," she says, exasperated. "Us."

Quinn just stares at her, waiting.

"It's never been easy between us."

"That's not true," Quinn immediately argues. "We were practically already a married couple; it was that easy."

Rachel shakes her head, feeling slightly amused. "Do you think we would still be together if we'd stayed together back then?"

"I don't know," she says, and it's the truth. "We might have fallen apart for any number of reasons. Long distance is difficult and our careers are both time-consuming. Anything could have happened, Rach. There's no way for us to know."

"No, there isn't," Rachel quietly agrees. "The future's a funny thing, isn't it?"

"It is, yeah," Quinn quietly agrees, as they descend into silence. There's so much more she would like to say, but she can't even think of the words in this moment. It's Christmas Day. She's not supposed to be feeling _this_. It's melancholy and nostalgia and an odd sense of _what if_ , and she hates it.

Rachel sighs, her hands reaching for the folded envelope in the pocket of her coat. She's been debating with herself whether to hand it over to Quinn, and she still isn't sure about her decision. Santana said Quinn always just wanted to know _why_ , and Rachel reasons she owes the blonde at least that much.

"Here," Rachel says, pressing the letter into Quinn's hands. "Read it, or don't. Just, it was always meant for you, and I want you to have it."

Quinn stares at her. "Rachel…"

She shakes her head. "It's yours," is all she says, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Quinn's cheek. Sighing lightly, she rises to her feet and leaves the room without saying another word.

* * *

 _My Dearest Quinn_

 _Please don't hate me. I know I don't deserve to ask that of you, but I'm still going to. I need you to understand why I've done what I've done. I need you to understand why I don't have a choice. This is the best thing for us both, and I just hope you'll learn to see it that way too. Maybe not today but, in time, I know you'll understand. You've always been so smart - a genius, really - and I'm relying on that to get us both through this._

 _This separation._

 _This break._

 _I don't think for a second you'll believe me when I say this isn't an end. It's just a 'not now.' We both still have so much to accomplish; so much to learn and explore. There's so much for us both to do and life to live, and I want that for both of us. I know I could love you forever, and I don't think either of us is properly ready for what that truly means._

 _I was taught a long time ago that you can never achieve anything substantial without hard work and sacrifice. I've worked so hard to get here, and I can practically taste the future I've been dreaming about since I was old enough to know what Broadway was. It's over the hill, and I've bled, sweated and cried for this. I've put in endless hours, and I can't give up on that now._

 _Which brings me to the sacrifice. For me to reach the highest peaks, I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you behind. It's a truth that's been brought to my attention a number of times, by various parties. Santana has been sniping at me for months, forcing me to resist you because she's convinced I'm going to hurt you. And, well, it would seem she's correct. This will hurt, Quinn. It hurts right now, even as I pen this letter that will probably mean very little to you in the moment. For that, I'm sorry._

 _I tried so hard, you know. Well, I know you know. You've stood idly by, patiently waiting and watching me fight my affection for you. My love for you. I suspect you think it means nothing now, and I'm deeply sorry for that. I want you to know that being with you has been magic. I've had a taste and, knowing myself, I would probably give up all my dreams to remain here with you, and I can't. Even though I suspect you will never actually ask me to, I can't, Quinn, and I won't. I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you from this hurt. I'm sorry I was selfish and greedy. Last night means everything and more to me, and I hate that it's going to be shadowed and tainted by what has to happen now. I imagine, when you wake up to find me gone, you'll hate me. You'll have questions, and I hope this letter eases some of your pain. I hope it will do for you what it will not do for me._

 _Daddy says this is the right choice. His own career has suffered from his choices in this small town, and he doesn't want the same for me. I believe him in that regard, and I've taken steps not to make the same mistakes as him. Which, yes, makes me sound like an awful person, and it makes him sound even worse. Maybe it's what we deserve: to be viewed as awful human beings, because the decisions we make are capable of hurting so many. I will shoulder the blame for this decision, and I hope you'll find it in your heart to understand, maybe accept and forgive, and then move on with your very promising life._

 _I envision great things for you. I always have, even if you've never quite believed it for yourself. I suspect you've wanted me to be your anchor; to give you some direction, but I think your future is something you're going to have to figure out without me. It has to be for you, Quinn. For you to be truly happy, it has to be FOR YOU, and that is exactly what I'm trying to do for myself._

 _It's what we all need, isn't it?_

 _I haven't given much thought to how I would end this letter. Truthfully, I haven't given much thought to anything beyond 'I have to leave, right now,' but Daddy has made all the necessary arrangements, I suppose. It's already difficult enough sitting here and writing these words while you're sleeping so peacefully just a few feet away. If I could freeze this moment forever, just take a snapshot of how perfect you look, I would carry it with me for all of eternity._

 _Please know that I'm sorry. When you wake, I imagine that peace will be gone._

 _I'm sorry, Quinn._

 _I_ _love you._ _I love you._

 _It's just not our time yet, baby._ _But, one day, you'll come to New York, and I think we'll be ready for each other then._

 _I love you, Quinn._ _I love you so much._ _Even if I haven't always shown it in the right way, I need you to know that I will always carry you with me, day and night._

 _I'll be waiting for you._

 _Love,  
_ _Rachel_

* * *

Quinn doesn't realise she's crying until a teardrop stains the page, landing right beside already-smudged ink.

Next to Rachel's ten-year-old tears.

Quinn can't bring herself to read the letter a second time, so she folds it and puts in her pocket. Maybe, if she's not looking at it, she can pretend it doesn't exist. She wants nothing more than to reach out for Mia and hold her little girl close to her chest, but she can't. She has the sudden urge to call and talk to her little girl, but she stamps down on that desire. It wouldn't be fair to Cooper, and what they have works for them.

Even if it hurts.

Because it _does_.

 _Everything_ hurts.

It hurt back then, when Quinn woke up to an empty bed, and it hurts now to know _why_. It's what she's wanted, of course, but it doesn't make her feel any better. She's held onto her pain and hatred and resentment for so long, and it's almost a slap to the face to know the roles Santana and LeRoy might have played.

LeRoy.

Quinn can't even handle _that_ , right now, and the last thing she wants is to be in _his_ space.

So, without another thought, she rises to her feet and walks out of the room. She's not sure where she's going initially, but she decides to head down the stairs into the basement where Noah and Leslie have been staying. She's unsurprised to find Leslie sitting on the bed, as if she was just waiting for Quinn to come down.

Leslie pats the space beside her.

Quinn goes willingly, moving to lie on her side and settling her head in Leslie's lap.

Without a word, Leslie's fingers thread through Quinn's soft hair.

The silence engulfs them, and Quinn feels her body begin to relax. "It's all wrong," she eventually whispers.

Leslie says nothing.

"I don't even know if I _want_ to make any of it right."

* * *

"So, you gave it to her?"

Rachel glances at Santana, and then nods.

"What happens now?"

She shrugs helplessly "I suppose there's nothing to do but wait."

* * *

"Lee, what are you doing?"

The man in question snaps to attention at the sound of Quinn's voice, and immediately slams the drawer in his desk closed. "Oh, hey, Quinn," he says, exhaling.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asks again, arching an eyebrow in that patented way that's brought lesser men to their knees.

"Just looking for something."

"If you're looking for the practice's expansion proposal file, I took it home with me," she tells him, even though she _knows_ it's not over what he's panicking.

"I'm actually looking for something else," he says distractedly, and Quinn does all she can not to _snap_. She wants to. God, she so desperately wants to lay into him in the worst ways, because she's spent the last ten years _begging_ for truth, and he's just stood idly by and watched her flail helplessly.

Instead, as calmly as she can, she removes Rachel's letter from her pocket and lays it on the desktop in front of him. "Are you looking for this?" she asks coldly.

LeRoy just stares at the torn envelope, his complexion paling as he ceases all movement.

"I assume you're looking for it for a very specific reason," Quinn says conversationally. "I know she asked about it, and you assumed she would go looking, particularly when you have that guilty look on your face. She was a little too fast for you, though, and now we _all_ know." She shakes her head. "I've been thinking about it a lot, you know: the reason you would keep this from me; why you would keep _her_ from me. And I've come to the conclusion that you never wanted us to be together, did you? So, you forced her into a decision she never should have had to make, and _that_ has made me ask the question of why. Hmm? Am I not good enough?"

The question is left to hang in the air.

"How could you make her _choose_ between me and her career, when she could have had both?" Quinn continues. "I _know_ we could have made it work. She never would have had to be the _gay_ artist. All I ever wanted was to _be_ with her, and you took away our _chance_." Her voice begins to tremble, and she bites the inside of her cheek to stop herself from breaking down. God, this is awful. "I cried myself to sleep for weeks, and you just stood there and watched while you _knew_. I lost myself in questions, _pleaded_ for answers, and you've known this entire fucking time!"

It's too much.

She's losing her grip on her anger, and she forces herself to reign it in.

But, almost predictably, it _really_ doesn't work.

She has so much pent-up rage, and she's not handling it well, at all.

"Was this always the plan?" she finds herself asking. "Was _anyone_ not going to be good enough for Rachel, or is it just me? Is it even because I'm a woman, or is is something else entirely? Because, I don't know, Lee. I thought you - " she stops. Quinn thought he loved her, but she knows better, now. "Don't worry, though," she suddenly snaps. "You'll always get what you want, because Rachel and I are never going to be able to be together as long as you have something to do with it, right?"

He doesn't say anything to that, and it merely angers her that bit more.

"Why? Just, why?"

Still, he says nothing.

She shakes her head in disbelief. "I thought you were more of a man than this, but I suppose I was wrong."

LeRoy recoils slightly at the sound of that.

"Tell me why you hid the letter," she practically snarls, baring her teeth.

"I knew you would have managed to convince her there was another way," he finally says, his shoulders sagging; "but I couldn't let you do that to the career she spent _years_ dreaming about. Why should she have to throw away her dreams because you happened to - "

"To what?" she snaps. "Fall in love with her? Seduce her? Obsess over her? Trap her in something she didn't want? Convince her I was more important than her career?"

They just stare at each other.

"Do you really think so low of me?" Quinn asks, sounding defeated. "Do you think I didn't _know_ how important her dreams were to her? Do you honestly believe I would have let her give up _any_ of that just to be with me? _Me_? Fuck you, LeRoy!"

His eyes widen, and Quinn steps back, trying to calm herself.

It's not working.

Nothing is working.

"I'll forever be grateful to you and Hiram for taking me in when nobody wanted to take care of me, but that doesn't give you the right to play with _my_ life like this. You had _no_ right to force decisions on us like that. How could you? Who do you think you are?" She's losing it, she knows. She can practically feel it. She wants answers, but she also really doesn't. "How could you hide something like this from me? Just say it! You never wanted me to go to her, did you?"

"Quinn, no," he starts.

"Stop lying to me!" she yells. "Just, stop fucking lying! For the first time, just tell me the fucking truth!"

There's a moment of silence before he starts to speak. "I was thinking of you both," he finally says, ever the diplomat. "You were just so young and you couldn't know for sure."

Her nostrils flare.

"It would have been too much for you both. You were here and she was there, and neither of you needed to suffer through any of that."

"Bullshit!" she snaps. "That is such bullshit, LeRoy! We were _already_ suffering. What do you think she was doing in New York without _any_ of us? Do you really think she was happy? Because, if you do, you're even more delusional than I thought. I mean, for fuck's sake, are you stupid? What were you thinking? _Were_ you even thinking?"

"Quinn, you have to understand that I didn't make the decision _for_ Rachel," he tries to defend.

"Oh, save it," she says darkly. "We _both_ know what you did, so you can stop trying to paint a pretty picture of yourself. She was already terrified of my love, and you used it to make her see I would be toxic when it came to the future and career she spent years working towards. I'm not an idiot, LeRoy. I've been stupid in love before, sure, but I'm not an idiot, and I won't listen to you defend your actions when there _is_ no defence. You didn't just break _my_ relationship or my cold dead heart; you broke this _family_. Bet you didn't expect that, huh? By leaving _me_ , she was leaving everyone as well, or was that your plan all along? _You_ couldn't escape us, so you made sure your beloved daughter did?"

There's another heavy silence, during which Quinn loses sight of her own thoughts. Is this really happening? Are these last ten years of utter heartbreak all because one man decided that, in the end, the whims of his first and clearly most-loved child were worth _more_ than his family?

Even if one was to take Quinn completely out of the equation, would any of it have been worth it? Is Quinn just that unfortunate _girl_ who happened to get in the way of what was a promising future?

"Did you even stop to think that she could love me too?" Quinn asks, because she needs to know.

"It doesn't matter," he says. "I was only doing her a favour by helping her put her career first."

"Do you really think that putting her career first was the right thing, when it resulted in ten years of _nothing_?" she asks, positively hating how calm he sounds. As if he still thinks everything he did is justified. "Was it fucking worth it?"

His eyes narrow. "Rachel deserves better than what you could have ever offered her, Quinn, and we both know it."

For the first time all evening, Quinn's face falls.

She's known all along that she was aimless and lost when she was a teenager. She didn't believe in herself half as much as everyone else did, but she had dreams of being _something_ , even if she wasn't yet sure what. It took waking up to an empty bed to kick her into gear, and she put her head down to get through her final year of high school without breaking a sweat.

She surprised them all by getting into Harvard, and even more when she decided to tackle Pre-Med. Now that she's a qualified doctor, she _thought_ she'd done enough, but she's always going to be Quinn Fabray, the sad, lonely girl whose family beat her and never wanted her.

It _hurts_ to know LeRoy has never seen her as anything more than the failure everyone believed she would turn out to be.

"That's for me to decide," Rachel suddenly says, and both their heads snap towards the doorway. "That is _my_ decision," she says again, stepping into the room and bypassing Quinn. "You had no right to influence it. I'm older now and I'm wiser and I've already missed so much, but that's on me." She breathes out slowly, her own anger at her father and herself _telling_. "You have no right to sit there and look Quinn in the eye and tell her she wouldn't be enough. She's more than enough. She's _everything_ , and you've had such a hand in keeping us apart, and I will never forgive you for that."

LeRoy just stares at her, and Quinn says and does nothing.

What _can_ she say or do, anyway?

Would she even _want_ to, if she did know?

"Rachel," LeRoy eventually starts, but the brunette just raises a hand, keeping him silent as her own thoughts threaten to spiral out of control.

Rachel feels Quinn's hand on the small of her back, and every word of vitriol she wants to spew at her father dies in her throat. She's spent years hating every decision she's ever made, regret pooled in her gut and self-loathing tingeing every success she's had. She blamed herself, and she blamed her father and Santana, and sometimes even Quinn.

She wishes she could just _let it go_.

Breathing a sigh, Rachel's eyes meet LeRoy's. "You don't get to talk about Quinn that way," she says, and there's a coldness in her voice that surprises them all. "You don't. Not now, and not ever."

* * *

Quinn, Rachel and LeRoy don't say words to one another at the dinner table, and it's a truth not lost on the rest of the family. Any attempts to bring it up are quickly thwarted by Rachel's exasperated sighs, Quinn's cold glares and LeRoy's grunted dismissals.

They're _fine_.

It's just odd for their family because it looks as if Quinn and Rachel aren't exactly angry at _each other_ , which means they're mad at LeRoy.

But how?

Why?

What happened?

* * *

"Someone should talk to them," Sam says when they settle in the living room after dinner. LeRoy has disappeared into his study, Quinn and Rachel have disappeared somewhere else, and Hiram and Stacey are tidying up in the kitchen.

"Definitely," Steve immediately agrees.

"No," Santana says, surprising them all. "Speaking as someone who _has_ been involved in Quinn's... personal life; that's a terrible idea."

"We don't know the nature of the confrontation," Leslie says, automatically reaching for Noah's hand. "Doing _anything_ now could just make things worse, and I really don't want to have to deal with any more animosity tonight. It's Christmas. I'm sure they'll sort themselves out."

Even as she says the words, she doesn't believe them.

Nobody else does, either.


	6. Find My Way Home

**Part Six**

 **Find My Way Home**

* * *

"Hey," Rachel says, getting Quinn's attention as she steps out of the front door to the house that no longer feels like a home.

Quinn glances over her shoulder and offers her a small smile. "It's freezing out here. What are you doing?"

Shrugging slightly, she pads across the wooden floors and settles in beside Quinn on the porch swing. She sits close enough to soak up the blonde's warmth, but they're not actually touching.

"Are you okay?" Quinn asks her, almost whispering.

"I could ask you the same question."

Quinn licks her lips, feeling the cold on her tongue. "I came to New York the first time because I wanted to see you," she says; "and I came all the other times because I _needed_ to see you."

Rachel frowns. "How many times did you come?" she asks.

"I lost count," she admits. "Boston isn't that far from New York, and I could easily catch a train to come see you perform."

"Quinn," she whispers, caught off guard. "You've - you've seen me perform?"

"Of course," she says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "How could I stay away? Watching you perform has always been one of my favourite things to do. You've always been amazing but, seeing you up there doing the thing you love, it helped make your leaving hurt a little less. Just knowing that you were making it made it feel as if everything I'd been through since you left was maybe worth it."

Tears spring to Rachel's eyes. "I'm so sorry," she cries, burying her face in Quinn's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Quinn."

Quinn just shakes her head. "I thought we already discussed this, Rach," she says. "I don't want your apologies."

"But you're dissatisfied with my reasons why."

Quinn sighs. "I think, regardless of whatever you ended up telling me, I was always going to be dissatisfied," she confesses gently. "I spent a long time being angry with you, and I managed to channel it all into some very productive things. It still hurts to think about it, so this isn't anything that can just be fixed in a few days. We both know that."

Rachel swallows audibly, lifting her head slightly. She remains close to Quinn. "Do - do you _want_ to fix it?"

Quinn closes her eyes. "Fix what, exactly?"

"Our relationship."

"Which one?" Quinn questions. "We've been many things to each other. Enemies, allies, friends, sisters, lovers. Which one of those would you like to repair?"

"Not the first one," she murmurs in response. "And probably not the fourth one either." She blinks once, twice. "Though, I think we'll both be relieved to know that I've never _actually_ seen you as my sister."

Quinn, admittedly _is_ relieved by that. It's not as if Quinn was here for all that long before the feelings developed. It was a few months, at the most, and it was always going to be... ugly.

They were always going to _lose_.

Quinn rests her forehead against Rachel's. "What are we doing, Rach?" she whispers, her breath filling the space between them.

"We're sitting on our childhood home's porch swing, talking and feeling," she says. "I - I like it here."

Quinn swallows. "Don't," she says. "Don't, okay?"

"Quinn," she says gently. "Quinn, I - "

"Don't," she repeats. "Don't say things you don't mean, and please don't start things you can't finish."

Rachel closes her eyes. This is all too much and yet not enough at the same time.

"When do you leave?" Quinn suddenly asks.

"The thirtieth."

"A lot can happen between now and then, Rachel," she says seriously.

"What do you _want_ to happen?" Rachel asks carefully, suddenly wary. What _are_ they doing?

Quinn doesn't seem to have an answer for her, and that seems to make the decision.

"I think it's best if nothing _does_ happen, Quinn," Rachel answers for both of them. "I can't help thinking that things turned out the way they were always supposed to."

"I don't particularly _like_ the way things have turned out," she confesses; "at least, not when it comes to you and me."

"And, do you think I like it?" she asks, slightly defensive.

Quinn sighs. "Well, what am I supposed to think?" she questions. "You're the one who left me, Rach. You're the one who knows how _I_ feel. So, you have all the power here, which is nothing new. The question now is do - do you want me? Because you can have me. If you want me, you can have me."

Rachel is stunned to silence.

She doesn't remember a time when Quinn was ever this forward or direct, and she has to admit that she rather likes the take-charge attitude of one Quinn Fabray. When they were teenagers, it looked as if Quinn was fighting it almost as much as Rachel was.

When she gave in, it was almost inevitable that Rachel would, too.

But.

Things are different now.

"I live in New York, Quinn," she whispers.

"That isn't an answer to the question," Quinn points out.

"It's not that easy."

"Then, what can I do to make it easier?" she presses. "What do you want me to say? Do you want me to ask you to stay? Do you want me to tell you to go? I need to know what you want."

"I don't know what I want, Quinn," she says. "I already told you that, and you can't ask me to make a decision so drastically."

At the sound of that, Quinn pulls back slowly, her eyes colder and more distant than Rachel's ever seen them. "What's so hard about that?" she asks, carefully rising to her feet. "After all, you've done it before."

And then she disappears into the house, leaving Rachel feeling as if she's lost her all over again.

* * *

When Rachel goes back into the house, she's shivering. She finds everyone still lounging in the living room with cups of eggnog and lazy smiles. It smells and feels like Christmas, and Rachel doesn't know how she's survived so long without her family.

Her eyes automatically seek out Quinn, but she's not in the room.

Neither is Noah.

Santana pats the space beside her on the couch, and Rachel immediately goes to sit. The act, itself, is like an olive branch being extended, and Rachel isn't going to hesitate. If she can prove herself to Santana, then that's already half the battle.

Between her and Noah, Rachel actually stands a chance with the rest of the family.

All she has to do now is stop making such a mess of things with Quinn.

Speaking of Quinn.

Rachel visibly tenses when the blonde enters the room, and Santana gives her a curious look, which she ignores.

Quinn walks straight towards Leslie, and practically drapes her body over the other woman, which makes them both laugh.

Rachel feels an irrational jealousy that she forces herself to suppress.

Quinn shifts on Leslie, and then brings her mouth up to Leslie's ear to whisper, "Just so you know, it's your own fault that you're totally going to miss out on me."

Leslie frowns at her. "What?"

"We could have been something special," Quinn says dramatically; "if only you'd met me first."

Leslie's confusion worsens, but her next question dies on her lips when Noah enters the room, looking nervous and excited at the same time. "Baby?" Leslie questions, her eyes flicking from Noah to Quinn, and then back to Noah.

The moment Quinn silently slips away from Leslie, everyone suddenly knows what's about to happen.

Even Leslie.

"Noah?" she whispers in wonder and disbelief as she watches him get down on one knee in front of where she's still seated. One hand moves to cover her open mouth, and the other reaches for Quinn's.

She needs to hold onto _something_.

"I love you," Noah starts, his eyes flicking to Quinn for a moment.

God, he's so nervous, but Quinn's smile is encouraging.

When his eyes settle on Leslie again, he smiles a warm, content smile that settles his racing heart. "I love you," he repeats; "and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." He's grinning now. "I've _always_ wanted to spend it with you, from the moment we met. You can even ask Quinn. I called her the night we were introduced, and told her I met my future wife."

"He totally did," Quinn interjects, and Leslie lets out a teary laugh.

"You make me better," Noah continues. "You make me want to be better. I've lived a _long_ life and, for a while, I gave up on the idea of finding happiness in love." He drops his gaze for a moment. "I've made mistakes, and I probably will still. I've cheated and lied and stolen, and I won't hide from my past, and I love you all the more because you've never asked me to. I know we've had our own difficulties, but there is nobody else in this world I want. I don't care about all that other stuff. We'll figure it out, as long as we're together."

Leslie's tears start to fall at the sound of that. Despite his endless assurances, she's never really been able to believe that he would accept that she could never give him children of his own.

But, here he is, on one knee and begging her to let him love her.

For forever.

"I've built a family of my own," Noah says; "and I'm unafraid to do it again. With you, Les. Always, with you, baby." He sucks in a deep breath, and then releases it slowly. "I'm definitely going to mess up, but I'm willing to put in the work. I want this, and I want you. So, now, the question remains: do you want me too?" He reaches into his back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a black box.

Someone gasps.

Noah brings the box to hold it between them. He pauses for a beat, and then opens it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring that Quinn helped him pick out. "Savannah Leslie Capistrano, will you marry me?"

Rachel thinks Leslie says yes.

Any words the woman says get drowned out by the sudden cheering the moment Leslie starts to nod, and Rachel's ears explode at the noise.

Noah and Leslie's embrace turns into a full-on family hug, all of the children piling onto the couple. Santana even drags Rachel down with her, and everyone ends up in a joyful heap on the carpet until Hiram makes a declaration that receives another burst of excitement.

"I think this calls for some champagne!"

* * *

The phone call arrives just after ten o'clock, when everyone is warm and lounging in the living room. They aren't actually _doing_ anything, just talking and laughing and genuinely enjoying one another's company for what feels like the first time in forever.

Rachel is in the middle of telling a story about an encounter with an overzealous fan when Quinn's phone goes off, and the ringtone is immediately recognised as the one belonging to Cooper.

With a slight frown, Quinn retrieves her phone from her pocket and rises to her feet to take the call privately. They just watch her leave the room as she answers the phone, and then stops mid-step.

"What?" she snaps.

There's _something_ in her voice that makes them all tense, all their eyes trained on her rigid back.

"Cooper, slow down. Say that again."

Noah rises to his feet.

"Wait. What? What happened?"

He takes steady steps towards Quinn.

"She _what_? Where are you now? Okay. I'm coming. I'm coming."

It's a good thing Noah is standing as close to her as he is because, as soon as Quinn hangs up with Cooper, she promptly passes out.

* * *

Quinn doesn't say anything to anyone once she's spoken to Mia's doctors.

Cooper _tries_ , but she shakes her head and walks to a spot further down the corridor, sinks to the floor, buries her face in her hands and _sobs_. She's far enough for them not to hear her, but it's obvious to them all what's happening, and the sight of it breaks Rachel's heart into tiny, scattered pieces.

"Cooper," Noah says, his voice desperate in his search for answers; "what happened? What are they saying?"

The man, who Rachel is seeing for the first time, looks ghostly pale as he stares at the amassed Berry-Lopez-Puckerman-Fabray-Evans clan. He's tall, brown-haired and blue-eyed, with a classic handsomeness that suits Quinn in some cosmic way. Quinn wasn't kidding when she said he was easy on the eyes.

"I - " he starts, and then stops. He takes in a shaky breath. "I was careless. I wasn't paying attention." He looks completely and utterly devastated. "We were sledding," he says. "I don't even know what happened. We always go down the slope together, but I turned away for a second - " he chokes on a sob, and Brittany immediately buries him in a hug.

Santana bristles slightly but she says nothing. She knows it will do none of them any good to start yelling at this broken man.

"I'm sorry," Cooper cries. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Rachel feels her heart twist painfully in her chest, and her fists clench at her sides.

"I'm sorry," Cooper repeats, and his voice is so raw that Rachel has to turn away from the sight of him.

* * *

They don't get answers until Hiram forces his way into a group of doctors. It would have been easier for LeRoy to find the necessary information but Quinn had shrieked at him to stay the hell away from her and her daughter when he tried to accompany the family to the hospital. The hurt was clear in his eyes but he stayed at home with Stacey and Steve.

What they find out is that Mia was brought in four hours ago, and rushed into surgery following a sledding accident. She had some internal injuries which they've successfully fixed, and now they're just waiting to see if the swelling in her brain will go down on its own. The surgeons are on standby to operate if it doesn't and, God, Rachel can barely breathe.

It's Christmas.

This kind of thing isn't supposed to happen.

In fact, it shouldn't be happening, regardless of the day.

* * *

The waiting room is quiet, somber.

Even with all the Christmas decorations around, nothing about this moment feels remotely festive, and Rachel's doing her best _not_ to do something stupid.

Like, maybe, yell at this Cooper Harris whom she doesn't even know.

Like, possibly, going to find Quinn, who's been MIA for almost forty minutes.

Like, definitely, finally calling Kurt back and asking him to book her on the next flight out of Ohio, because she doesn't think she can _do_ this.

Like - like -

So many things.

* * *

"Do you want anything from the vending machine?"

Rachel vaguely hears Sam ask the question, and she _may_ register it, but she shakes her head anyway. Her stomach is the last thing on her mind, right now. In fact, she doesn't even _know_ what's on her mind, and she doesn't like this particular feeling.

She's _never_ liked it, and it's _always_ been associated with Quinn Fabray.

After forcing herself to take a handful of calming breaths, Rachel rises to her feet and walks out of the waiting area where she's been waiting with everyone else. She ignores their curious, questioning looks, and just keeps going.

She needs a moment.

Really, she thinks that she just needs to see Quinn. The blonde has always managed to make everything better, and she selfishly hopes she'll be able to do the same for Quinn. She can't even begin to imagine what any of this must be like for her; to feel so hopeless because there's literally _nothing_ you can do.

Except pray, apparently, which seems to be what Quinn has been doing when Rachel spots her stepping out of the hospital's tiny chapel.

Quinn freezes when she sees her, and the two of them just stare at each other for long seconds, before Quinn's shoulders slump and Rachel crosses the space between them to pull the woman into a much-needed hug. Quinn settles into it immediately, her arms snaking around Rachel's waist as she soaks up the comfort. It's not the first time they've hugged since their reunion, but this one feels _heavier_.

They still have so much to talk about - _too much_ , really - but all of that feels so unimportant now.

"She's going to be okay," Rachel whispers, even though she still hasn't fully grasped what's happening to Mia. She just knows she has to say the words. Somebody has to, and she imagines Quinn's doctor-brain is running through ever worst-case-scenario imaginable.

Quinn's grip tightens. "I haven't prayed in so long," she confesses quietly. "Not since I still lived with the Fabrays." She sucks in a jagged breath. "I used to pray every night back then, begging for God to come save me. I pleaded with him to keep me safe, and he failed me constantly. So, when I left, I told myself I wouldn't ask him for anything ever again." She falls silent for a moment, and then says, "Not until today."

Rachel isn't sure how to respond to that, so she doesn't.

It's the sound of a door closing further down the corridor that draws an end to their endless embrace, and Quinn pulls away, immediately wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. She breathes out slowly, trying to steady herself for what's to come, and Rachel watches her intently, waiting for something.

"Thank you," Quinn says, dropping her hands and offering Rachel a sad smile. "I - think I needed that."

Rachel isn't sure how or why it happens, but it does.

One second, they're just standing there looking at each other and, the next, they're kissing.

It's a slow, almost painful, kiss.

It's gentle and thoughtless and, before either of them can actually _sink_ into it, Quinn jerks back in alarm when her brain catches up to her body.

"I'm sorry," she automatically says, touching her lips with her fingers. "God, I'm so sorry."

Rachel refuses to look at her, wrapping her arms around herself.

"There's - there's just too much…" Quinn trails off, her heartbeat still running at a mile an hour.

There's just too much...

History.

Pain.

Going on.

Just, _too much_.

"I'm sorry, too," Rachel says, belatedly, but she ends up talking to Quinn's back as the woman walks away.

* * *

"You're a fucking moron, you know that?"

Rachel startles at the sound of Santana's voice, frowning at her. "Excuse me?"

"Quinn's daughter is literally in the hospital right now," Santana says, scowling. "Where the fuck to get off kissing her?"

"Pardon?"

"Don't play dumb," Santana says. "I thought you were - fuck, I'm so sick of your shit."

Rachel closes her eyes for a moment, trying not to react in any way she's going to regret. "What do you want me to say?"

"What were you thinking?" she snaps.

Rachel sighs. "I think it's pretty obvious to everyone that I _wasn't_ thinking," she says. "She clearly wasn't either."

Santana shakes her head. "I mean, what do you expect to happen now? Are you just going to magically go back to the way it was before, huh?"

Rachel just stares at her with wide, sad and distressed eyes, and Santana instantly deflates. The Latina moves to sit in the chair beside Rachel and tries to come up with words that could help in this situation, but she's grasping at thin air.

"You're really still in love with her, aren't you?" Santana eventually asks, even though they both know it's not even a question.

"I don't think I've ever stopped," she confesses quietly. "It's just one of those things that _is_. Quinn and Rachel. Life and insecurities and ambition and fathers just keep getting in the way of everything."

Santana frowns. "What do you mean by 'fathers?' Is this about Lee?"

Rachel sighs, unsure whether it's a good idea to dive fully into the awkwardness that is LeRoy Berry and the role he may or may not have played in successfully helping Rachel make her clean break from her family to pursue her dreams in New York City, and effectively killing all hopes of Quinn eventually joining her.

Rachel can't decide what she feels about him in this moment. There's anger and a little bit of hatred. There's a lot of resentment and confusion and just plain _what the actual fuck, Daddy_?

But, there's still a part of her that _understands_ , and she hates it.

Hates it about _herself_.

"Don't kiss her again," Santana eventually says when Rachel has been silent for too long. "Not when you don't even know what you're doing. You both deserve better than that."

Rachel's not sure she would agree with that, but she doesn't say anything.

Instead, pushing aside thoughts of LeRoy, she reaches for Santana's hand and holds it tightly in both of her own in her lap. While Rachel doesn't really _know_ Mia, she feels helpless and awful, so she can only imagine what it must be like for everyone else. This has been the worst way to end their Christmas and, while she isn't at all religious, she feels the need to pray, as well.

* * *

The little sleep Rachel does get is restless and uncomfortable and, by the time the sun peeks through the blinds in the waiting room, she's stiff and starving. One would think they would make these chairs even a little bit more comfortable, given the amount of time people generally spend in them, but no.

From the looks of things, she's not the only one awake. Only she, Santana, Noah and Leslie ended up staying the entire night, with the rest heading home. It wasn't even a question, even though none of them have seen Quinn in several hours.

Or Cooper.

As Mia's parents, they're allowed to be with her, Rachel knows.

The moment Santana notices her opened eyes, she offers a tired smile. "Welcome back," she murmurs. "I'm going to get some coffee. Wanna come?"

Rachel's mouth feels heavy, and she spends a minute stretching out her limbs before she nods, and the two of them head towards the cafeteria. The hospital is just coming alive, the night shift changing over, and she expects the doctors to do their rounds soon.

"Have you heard any news?" Rachel asks as she follows Santana, who seems to know exactly where she's going. Rachel is tempted to ask about _that_ , but then she remembers Quinn's accident, and she presses her lips together to force herself to keep silent.

"Yeah," Santana says. "They took Mia for another scan, and the swelling is coming down. She's not going to need surgery."

Rachel lets out a breath she didn't even realise she was holding. "That's - that's great news."

Santana nods.

"How's Quinn?"

"Exhausted," she says. "Relieved, as well. I don't think she's slept, but Mia's going in the right direction, so..." she trails off. "I don't think any of us would survive if anything ever happened to that little girl. It would absolutely destroy Quinn, and I - I can't see that again."

Rachel audibly swallows as she lifts a hand to Santana's back, just rubbing a soft circle over her shoulder blade, the tension unmistakable. She's not sure what to say, so she says nothing.

It's the one thing she's learned in all her years away.

* * *

The coffee turns out to be the best thing to happen to Rachel since sliced bread, seriously. After practically gulping it down - burning her tongue in the process - and nibbling on a shared sandwich with Santana, Rachel goes to find a bathroom to make herself appear semi-presentable.

She almost squeaks at the sight she finds in the mirror - God, Kurt would murder her if anyone actually recognised her in this state - and she spends ten minutes dealing with her hair. She scrubs at her face, trying to wake herself up further. She imagines this day isn't going to be an easy one.

And, one glance at all the missed texts and calls on her phone merely proves that.

For a terrifying moment, Rachel wants to throw the device against the wall and just _not_ deal with the rest of the world, but she can't.

Of course, she can't.

This is her life, and it's supposed to be everything she wanted, right?

Sighing heavily, she pockets her phone, leaving things unanswered, and leaves the bathroom. Santana mentioned that Mia was moved to a new room - something about no longer being critical - so Rachel goes in search of it. If only to see with her own eyes that Mia is, in fact, all right.

And, she is.

For the most part, at least.

If Rachel didn't already know the extent of her internal injuries, the tiny girl could just be asleep.

But, her left arm is in a bright pink cast, and she has bruises along the left side of her face, and Rachel feels tears slide down her cheeks without her consent. She doesn't bother to wipe them away as she keeps her eyes on Mia, irrationally thinking that she might disappear if Rachel blinks for too long.

It's ridiculous, she knows. All these feelings for this little girl she doesn't even _know_. She knows it's merely an extension of what she feels for Quinn, but she's forced to acknowledge there's a part of her that _could_ love Mia. She could love a child that wasn't even truly hers, and that's terrifying in ways she doesn't understand.

Particularly when she's struggling to see herself loving the maybe baby inside of her. She suspects that has to do with Jesse, but she's trying not to think about him. She _wants_ this. A baby. A child. She wants love and a family, and she doesn't want to watch it slip through her fingers again.

Her phone buzzes again, and she glances at the screen to see that it's Kurt calling _again_.

If that isn't a reminder that she's _Rachel Berry_ , then she doesn't know what is. She can't just have _this_. Her ten-year-old decision to choose career over her somewhat-irregular family kind of ensured it, and she doesn't deserve any of it. She's already hurt them so much, and she can't even make a vow to herself that she won't do it again.

What would it mean to her career if - if she and Quinn managed to sort through all their history?

What would it mean to her _life_?

Where would they even live?

There is an endless number of obstacles regardless of whatever decisions Rachel makes, and she just wants it all to stop. She just wants a moment; a breather of some kind. She was supposed to find that _here_ , and she's both surprised and not by how naive she was to think she could actually _fix_ anything.

Maybe LeRoy was on to something, even though he went about it in all the worst ways.

Maybe Rachel just needs to -

"Hey."

Rachel whips around at the voice, her heart hurtling into her throat.

Quinn's eyes widen at her reaction, and she raises her hands placatingly. "Sorry," she says, grimacing slightly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Rachel tries to smile in reassurance, but her emotions are all over the place and her heart is beating erratically. "Hi," she forces herself to say.

Quinn steps further into the room, frowning slightly. "Are you okay?" she asks.

Rachel doesn't answer, her eyes noticing the envelope in Quinn's right hand. For whatever reason, the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she doesn't know why. "Is that about Mia?" she finds herself asking.

"No," Quinn says, setting down the envelope on the end of the bed and then moving past Rachel to get a proper look at her daughter.

Rachel easily steps to the side, and watches silently. There's a tension in Quinn's body that releases when she bends to kiss Mia's forehead, whispering words that Rachel can't hear. It's beautiful and heartbreaking, and Rachel feels voyeuristic for continuing to watch, but she can't bring herself to look away.

She wants this.

She _wants_.

"You didn't leave."

Rachel snaps to attention, because now Quinn is talking to her. "What?"

"You're still wearing the same clothes as yesterday," Quinn points out. "Did you sleep here, too?"

Rachel just nods, her voice failing her the way her brain is threatening to.

Quinn steps forward, closer to her, and reaches for her hand, just to give her something to hold onto.

Rachel holds tight, ignoring the tingling the contact causes on her skin. Something is happening to her, and she _knows_ she doesn't like it.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

"Thank you, Rachel," Quinn says.

"For what?"

"Just, thank you for staying, I guess, when you didn't have to," she says. "Thank you for being here."

Rachel squeezes Quinn's hand. "You know I wouldn't be anywhere else," she says.

There's a long moment of silence as the two of them merely exist, and it feels both heavy and light, as if this is a moment that could be _theirs_.

"I'm sorry," Rachel suddenly says, her eyes unable to meet Quinn's.

"What happened to Mia isn't your fault," Quinn immediately says; "It's nobody's."

"I _am_ sorry about Mia, but I'm referring to the kiss," she explains. "I mean, you were vulnerable and I just took advantage of - "

"Hey," Quinn cuts her off gently. "Don't be sorry, okay? It isn't as if I didn't kiss you back."

"I know," she whispers; "but it still shouldn't have happened."

Quinn swallows audibly. "Do you regret it?"

Rachel blinks. " _It_? No. But I do regret the timing of it. I think I've wanted to kiss you from the moment you walked into the living room my first night in town."

At the sound of that, Quinn blushes.

"I thought you were beautiful before, but now you're just ridiculously stunning," she says. "It's not fair, Quinn. I mean, how could you just grow into this graceful, absolutely gorgeous woman? Like, _how_?"

Quinn just shakes her head, because this isn't the conversation they're supposed to be having.

Rachel sighs, her eyes dropping to the envelope sitting on the end of Mia's bed. If it's not for Mia, then it has to be for her. It's the only thing that explains the rumbling in her chest, and the nausea that's building. "Is that...?" she starts, but she's unsure exactly what she wants to ask.

Quinn tenses, taking her hand back and running it through her hair. "They're your test results, yeah," she says. "I - I needed to take a walk to clear my head earlier, and I ended passing by the lab, so I stopped to check, and there they were. Are you ready to know for sure?"

There's no immediate response from Rachel, but Quinn still lifts the envelope and retrieves the page that has the potential to seal both Rachel's immediate and forever future. She's not ready, she thinks. She's been desperate to know for sure, of course, but she suddenly doesn't want to know.

"Wait," she says, her hand shooting out to stop Quinn's movements. "Just, wait."

Quinn waits.

"What if there's a baby?" she whispers, more to herself.

"Then, there's a baby," Quinn says.

"What if there isn't?"

Quinn waits a beat, and then looks down at the sheet of paper that could seal the fate of the world, for all Rachel's concerned. Quinn's eyes scan the sheet, looking for the answers. Her brow furrows slightly, and then she blinks once, twice, before looking at Rachel.

"What?"

Quinn shifts slightly, and Rachel's hand drops to her side. "I remember, you mentioned Xanax," she says. "Is that something you take?"

Rachel frowns. "Yes," she says. "Sometimes."

"Lately?"

"With all the stress of the album and Jesse, yes."

Quinn nods. "You're - you're not pregnant, Rachel," she says carefully. "Xanax, and drugs like it, have been known to produce false positives because of the hormone they - " she cuts herself off. "That doesn't matter. Just, you're not pregnant."

Rachel's ears are ringing, and she can't be sure why. "I'm not pregnant?"

"No."

"There's no baby?"

"There's no baby."

Rachel waits a moment, expecting _something_ about the world to change now that she knows the truth, but nothing does.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know," Quinn admits, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I feel as if this isn't what you wanted."

"I don't _know_ what I wanted," she returns, frowning slightly, because those are words she can't seem to compute. "But, maybe this is for the best," she continues anyway. "It's not the right time, and I really don't want to have to deal with Jesse for the rest of my life." She says the words, trying to convince herself of them, but there are cracks growing on her heart, and she needs to get out of here.

"I'm sorry," Quinn says again, and Rachel doesn't know whether she wants to punch the woman for saying those words that she can barely understand in this context or burst into tears and seek comfort.

Rachel does neither.

"I'm okay," she manages to say. "Really, I am. It's better that I know. I can start making the appropriate decisions, you know? It's okay. It's better this way."

Quinn clearly wants to say something. She even opens her mouth to get the words out, but it's another voice that cuts into the space, and everything _before_ is immediately pushed aside, forgotten.

"Mommy?"

Quinn starts at Mia's croaky whisper, and then turns.

Rachel watches for a moment, unable to handle whatever is happening _inside of her_ , and then she leaves.

Quinn doesn't seem to notice.

* * *

Rachel decides she's in desperate need of a shower.

She could probably use a brush of her teeth, as well.

She just needs to go, leave.

Take a walk, maybe.

Clear her head and try to figure out what she's supposed to do _now_.

So, she does.

Rachel goes to the hotel with the intention of showering, maybe catching a nap, and then going back to the hospital. It's a simple, doable plan, and she just needs to focus on something to ease the growing emptiness in her chest. She didn't expect to feel this way, even though she can't quite bring herself to figure out _what_ exactly she's feeling.

That's the plan, at least.

Which _definitely_ doesn't account for finding both Jesse and Kurt waiting for her when she gets to her hotel room.

Honestly, she has the sudden, irrepressible urge to punch them both in their stupid faces, because this is honestly the last thing she needs right now. Jesse looks smugly hopeful, as if he _knows_ Kurt is the one person who will make her see reason, and Kurt just looks unimpressed, his arms folded across his chest.

"Where have you been?" Kurt asks.

"Well, good morning to you, too," she mutters, bypassing them both and opening the room's door. She wants nothing more than to slam it in their faces, but she knows that will just make an already-tense situation even worse, and she's too exhausted to fight with either one of them right now.

"I stopped by the house several times," Jesse says, following Kurt into the room. "You weren't there. Where were you?" His face scrunches up. "Wait, were you were _Quinn_?" He says her name with such disgust that Rachel flinches, and then seriously contemplates just how much it would hurt her own hand to break his nose.

Rachel sighs, her eyes on Kurt. "What are you even doing here?" she asks, sitting on the edge of her bed and removing her shoes.

"Why haven't you been answering my calls?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Which ones?" she asks, letting her irritation seep into her tone. "The ones where you press me to come back to New York, or the ones where you try to manipulate me into agreeing to go on the tour I _told_ you to postpone?"

Kurt waits a moment, entirely too calm, and Rachel _really_ needs to get a hold of her suddenly-violent thoughts. "Rachel, listen," he starts. "This is a big deal, okay? This tour, at this time, has the potential to send you on a European tour. This is your career we're talking about here, and I don't understand why you're willing to give it all up for - " he stops.

"For what, Kurt?" she questions. "For family? For love?"

Jesse makes a strangled sound, but she's not paying attention to him.

She _knows_ she might have said to much, so she just sits, pressing her lips together.

"Well, yes," Kurt says.

"I don't get it," Rachel says, looking at him. "When we first started out, I thought you understood me."

"And, I do," he insists. "You and I, we do _anything and everything_ to make it in this world. We make the sacrifices."

"But, what if we don't have to?"

Kurt frowns. "What?"

"Why is it that you, Jesse, and my father all have this mindset that it has to be one or the other?" she questions, her tone soft, almost conversational. "Why can't it be both? Why can't I have it all?"

"Rachel," Kurt says, smoothing down his jacket with his palms. "We've _talked_ about this. We've come too far for you to throw it all away, just because you've decided to grow a conscience."

Rachel clenches her jaw. "You're much too invested in my success, Kurt," she says slowly. "Be careful, there. You're starting to sound like Jesse."

Jesse scoffs, but says nothing.

Kurt sighs. "Rachel, honey," he says, moving to sit beside her. "What is this really about? If this is some kind of sexual crisis, we can work on it, in private," he offers. "If you need to make it back to this God-awful town more often, we can organise to make that happen too, but I will not let you throw away this once in a lifetime chance for something so - "

"So what?" Rachel snaps. "Do you even know what's going on? Did your best friend Jesse here tell you _why_ I even came home?"

Kurt sucks on his teeth for a moment. "We can take care of that."

"Unbelievable!" she exclaims, jumping to her feet and moving away from him. "Is that why you're here? To make sure I just _make it go away_?"

Kurt shakes his head, but he still says, "It's my job to keep your career on track."

"And here I made the mistake of thinking you were actually my friend," she snaps. "That you actually care about _me_. The person. Rachel. Not Rachel fucking Berry, everybody's meal ticket!" She's pacing now. "How dare you, Kurt? How dare you even attempt to sweep something like this under the rug, as if it's meaningless?"

"Rachel," Kurt says. "You have to look at it - "

"Shut up!" she suddenly screams, and Kurt _does_.

Jesse flinches.

"Get out," she says, calmer. "Just, get out of my room, and out of my sight. I don't want to see you. Either of you."

"Rachel," Kurt tries. "I don't understand why this is any different to what happened in the past. You told me the story. You walked away from them once before, choosing career over family. Why won't you do it again?"

Rachel stares at him. "Because, Kurt," she says. "I was wrong." She closes her eyes for a long moment. "It wasn't ever a choice I _had_ to make, and I'm definitely not doing it again."

"You're just going to ruin your career." It's Jesse who says this. "A _baby_ is going to ruin it, and _she's_ going to ruin it."

Rachel sucks in a breath, her head suddenly spinning. "Well, those are both things you don't need to worry about," she says, and her tone is flat, almost broken with the disappointment of the truth of that statement.

Jesse pauses, hearing something very specific in her voice. "There's no baby?"

Rachel glares at him. "Congratulations, Jesse," she says. "You got exactly what you wanted. There's no baby."

Jesse steps towards her, and she takes an immediate step back. He seems undeterred. "It's a sign, Rachel," he says. "Don't you see? Children aren't in the cards for us. We can - "

"No," she says, interrupting. "There is no _us_ , and there is no _we_. You and I are done."

"But there's no baby," he points out.

"That changes nothing about you and me," she says, because, yes, there's a part of her that might have truly wanted there to be a baby.

Even though she knows she's nowhere near ready for one.

Kurt chooses that moment to cut in, knowing the two of them are going to get into it again, and he doesn't want to be around for that. "Rachel," he says; "I need you to think about this clearly."

"Funny you should say that, Kurt," she immediately returns; "because I do believe I'm thinking clearly for the first time in my life."

Kurt swallows, and then reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Here," he says carefully, setting down the item he's just retrieved on the room's desk. "This is a ticket to New York. It leaves tonight from Columbus, okay? Just, get on the plane, get back to your life, and we can figure out all the rest, okay? Just, maybe coming here _now_ was a mistake, okay? Come back to New York, and everything will be fine, okay? We'll work everything out. Don't throw away every sacrifice you've ever made for a handful of regrets."

And, maybe that's it, she thinks.

Maybe it's just _regret_.

She _hurt_ them, and she feels terrible about it, and there's a part of her that's almost certain she would do it again, just differently.

All Rachel does is nod, her body numb, and then Kurt and Jesse leave her to her thoughts.

That are spiralling out of control.

There's no baby.

There's no... Quinn, either. It's too much, she said, and Rachel agrees with her. They can't just pick up where they left off. They can't just _do this_ , and that truth weighs heavily on Rachel's heart as she eventually takes a shower and throws on some clothes.

She tries to nap, and fails.

Her mind won't stop thinking about babies and Quinn and Mia and the future and New York and her career and her family and a flight she knows she _should_ catch and _just, please make it stop_. She can practically _feel_ the plane ticket in the room as if it's a burning furnace, and her heart can't handle any of it.

It can't.

Which is the reason she shoots to her feet, throws on her shoes, and leaves.

* * *

Rachel stops at the house.

She's not entirely sure _why_ she does it but, the second she sees LeRoy, she suddenly does. She's unconsciously put him on her list of _issues_ she needs to deal with before she can truly feel... settled.

He's the only one around, apparently, as everyone else is at the hospital now that Mia's awake and doing well. Rachel feels a flash of guilt that she's not with them, but she feels as if this is something she needs to do, and she won't be able to rest until she does. She won't be able to be present and properly _there_ for Quinn if she doesn't have this conversation.

Whatever it is.

"Daddy," she says from the study's doorway, hating this room more and more every time she's in it.

LeRoy doesn't hear her the first time, so she just walks into the room and stands in front of the desk and stares at him, unsure if she actually recognises him in this moment. He looks haggard, defeated, and Rachel feels _slightly_ sorry for him.

But she's still angry.

God, she can barely look at him.

"You were wrong," she says.

LeRoy breathes out slowly, deflating almost, as he looks up at her. "I was," he agrees, and he doesn't need her to explain what she's even talking about. "I was wrong," he repeats. "I know that now."

Rachel frowns, slightly thrown by the man's apathy. It's a far cry from his previous justifications. "Why now?"

LeRoy sits back, his eyes closing. "Your father asked me to tell him why you and I were... tense," he explains. "So, I did."

Rachel blinks, clearly not expecting to hear that. "You did?"

"I told him about what I told you when you were still on the fence about when and how to leave, and whether you should let Quinn go with you. I told him about the plane ticket, and I told him about the letters I kept from them and from Quinn. I - I told him everything, Rachel, and I hoped he would understand, but - "

"He didn't," she finishes for him. "Of course, he didn't."

"I was wrong."

Rachel feels a little off-kilter.

Okay, _a lot_ off-kilter.

She drops down into a chair and sighs. "This is all so fucking fucked up," she says, channelling Santana and, a beat later, they both burst out laughing.

Hysterically.

Rachel's laughter turns to choked sobs within seconds, and then her entire body is shaking from the force of her tears, because everything is wrong and nothing is right and she was maybe pregnant but she's not and her manager is an ass and her ex-boyfriend is a dick and she's in love with a _woman_ she's not sure she can ever truly _be with_ if she still wants to hit the heights she's dreamt of in her career.

She's just so tired, and she's hit by that feeling that all she wants to do is _go home_.

But, she's home, is she not?

No.

Home is...

Home is _Quinn_.

"Daddy," she says, wiping at her eyes.

"Sweetheart?"

"Was it worth it?"

"I don't think I'm the one who can answer that," he says, sighing. "I'm on this end, and you're on the other. I suspect we both have regrets."

She presses her lips together, thoughtful. "It's not worth it," she finally says, practically declaring it as gospel. "It's not."

LeRoy nods, maybe in agreement, she doesn't know.

And, really, there's nothing more for either of them to say.

* * *

While Rachel has every intention of returning to the hospital when she leaves the house, she doesn't. She doesn't think she's ready to deal with all of it yet, and she needs to do something _more_ before she deems herself worthy of trying to fix everything.

If that's really what she wants.

So, instead, she goes back to the hotel.

Her brain hasn't been able to switch off for endless minutes, hours, and she wonders just _what_ will allow that to happen. She thinks maybe returning to New York _will_ help her with her priorities, as Kurt claims.

It'll definitely make it more difficult for her to _question_ said priorities.

She's not stupid enough to _throw away_ her career, but she recognises that it's probably going to take a hit whatever she decides to do. She'll never be able to stay in Lima, so she'll have to go back at some point. And then what?

What happens then?

Where does Quinn fit in?

 _Does_ she fit in?

Would she even want to?

Rachel throws herself onto the bed and screams into her pillow. She feels as if she's eighteen years old again, going through all these same scenarios, wondering about her life and decisions and love. She drew up lists back then, anything to try to help her make a decision...

That she, ultimately, regrets.

Sort of.

Maybe.

Sometimes.

Today, and yesterday, but what about tomorrow?

It would be so easy, she thinks, as she rolls over onto her back. It would be so easy to pack up her things, check out of the hotel, drive to Columbus, get onto a plane for New York, and chalk this all up to potential pregnancy panic.

It would be so simple.

She could just leave, and that would be that. It would be like she never even came back. She wouldn't even have to say goodbye, and they could all go on hating her. She thinks she could live with that. They all already have their own lives, and it's ten years too late.

The tears surprise her, but the sudden ache in her chest definitely doesn't.

Suddenly, it doesn't feel as if she'll be able to breathe properly again.

Won't even _want_ to.

Which, really, decides everything for her.

Rachel gets up once more, grabs her bag, the plane ticket, and then drives to Columbus.

* * *

It's later, much later, that Quinn truly considers that Rachel isn't coming back.

It's been a whirlwind of a day, and her heart hasn't slowed down since Mia opened her eyes and cried out for her. She vaguely recalls Rachel leaving the room and, while she wishes she could have done more to support the brunette during the aftermath of the results, Quinn won't apologise for making Mia her focus.

At the time, Quinn acknowledged Rachel wanting to give them some privacy, and she probably needed a moment as well.

But, now...

Now, Quinn isn't so sure, and she hates that Rachel can still _do_ this to her.

"She's coming back."

Quinn doesn't even look away from where she's watching Mia sleep when she hears Santana's voice.

"She is. I know she is."

"You can't know that," Quinn says, the forefinger of her left hand drawing gentle circles on the inside of Mia's uninjured wrist. She's been in and out of consciousness all day, but she's coherent and smiling, and Quinn doesn't think she's going to let her out of her sight ever again.

She doesn't even care what Cooper says about it.

Okay.

She does.

There's a part of her that wants to be angry with him. She wants to yell and rage at him and accuse him of being a terrible father for letting this happen to their baby girl, but she knows it will change nothing. It was an accident.

Quinn _knows_ terrible fathers, and Cooper is not one of them. Just looking at his devastation when they arrived at the hospital proves that much, and Quinn _never_ wants to see that expression on his face ever again. She loved him once.

She loved Rachel once, too, but she's only ever managed to love one of them endlessly.

They both hurt her in their own ways and, really, Quinn can't be sure she's forgiven either of them. With Rachel, it was unexpected but, with Cooper, a part of her felt it was coming. She can't really explain _that_ , but she wasn't as surprised and heartbroken as she should have been. Pissed, yes. Enraged, definitely, but there was a part of that accepted it long before she had the truth of his infidelity confirmed.

Maybe it's just men.

She _expects_ them to disappoint her.

Take LeRoy.

"I do know that," Santana counters, interrupting Quinn's thoughts. "There's no way she's ducking out now. She loves you, Quinn."

"She loved me back then, too," Quinn points out. "It doesn't mean anything when the stars are shining brighter elsewhere, San. I've learned that truth, and I know you have too."

Santana doesn't have a response for that, and she just rests a hand on Quinn's shoulder in silent solidarity. After a moment, she asks, "How is Mini-Q?"

"She's doing well," Quinn immediately answers, a smile blooming across her face. "Really well, actually. The doctors were even surprised."

"Are you?"

"Definitely not," she says proudly. "My kid is a fighter."

Santana chuckles softly, keeping her volume down. "She learns from the best of them, I suppose."

Quinn offers her a smile that seems a little too sad.

"She's coming back," Santana repeats.

Quinn can't bring herself to believe her, and they both know it.

* * *

When Quinn was younger, she liked to pretend she was somebody completely different. She would lie in bed late at night and imagine she was someone else; someone with a kind family; someone worth caring about. She used to imagine she had a pet dog named Sunday that she would play with on the front lawn with the sprinklers going and her parents sitting on the front porch, watching her in delight as they sipped lemonade.

It was childish, she quickly learned, to dream of such things.

She didn't deserve them.

It took her years to deem herself remotely worthy of a good life, and love and kindness and care. She still struggles with it from time to time - she's been knocked a few times - but _Mia_ has always helped her keep her thoughts in check. Mia could _never_ love someone who wasn't worthy of it, and that makes all the difference.

Her little girl will always be the difference.

"Are you sure you don't want to come home with us?"

Quinn sighs as she follows Noah and Leslie out of Mia's room, needing to stretch her legs. "I'm sure, Les," she says, feeling as if she's saying it for the hundredth time.

"But, you haven't been home in _hours_ , Quinn," Leslie argues. "Mia is out of the woods. You should get some sleep."

"I know," Quinn says, resisting the urge to snap. She _is_ exhausted and highly emotional, but she can't bring herself to leave her daughter. Not tonight. Not ever. "I just - I have to be here tonight," she says. "I don't expect you to understand it, because I don't myself, but I can't just leave. I can't. Not yet."

Leslie waits a beat before she nods, her hand reaching out to touch Quinn's forearm. "Okay," she says, almost whispering. "At least let me buy you a coffee before we go. You look like a zombie."

Quinn chuckles tiredly. "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome."

Noah throws an arm over Quinn's shoulders as they walk, and she leans into him while her left hand easily slips into Leslie's right. She doesn't even want to think about how she would have handled all of this without them today. All of them. Finn, Carole, Mike and Tina also stopped by during the day, which only added to her perilous emotional state. Her entire family has been so supportive, and it brings tears to her eyes whenever she thinks about it a little too hard.

Which is what she does as she sips at her coffee.

It's scorching hot and strong enough to be bitter, but it's working wonders as she accompanies Noah and Leslie to the main entrance to the hospital. The walk, itself, helps, but she's itching to get back to Mia. She knows she would be miserable if she even considered going home for an extended period of time and, while she recognises the need for a shower and a fresh change of clothes, none of that seems even remotely important in this moment.

 _Nothing_ is more important than Mia.

* * *

Quinn wouldn't say she's entirely surprised by what she finds when she makes it back to Mia's room, but she _does_ stop short at the sight before her. It's almost deja vu from this morning - was that only this morning? - to find none other than Rachel Berry standing over Mia, an unreadable expression on her face.

Quinn just stands for a moment, taking in the sight with mixed emotions.

Rachel's shoulders drop at some point, and she gently tucks Mia's stuffed lamb under the covers, which forces an unexpected smile onto Quinn's face. She doesn't know if she should be mad at Rachel for being gone the entire day and making her think she was never coming back, or if she should just be grateful she's here at all.

In the end, Quinn does neither.

"Hey," the blonde says, and Rachel almost jumps out of her skin.

"You're here," Rachel says, a hand pressed over her chest.

"So are you."

Rachel lets out a sigh, and then turns to face Quinn as she approaches the bed. "I wanted to see her," she admits softly. "I wanted to see you."

Quinn arches an eyebrow. "We've been here all day."

Rachel looks to the side for a moment. "There were a few things I needed to take care of," she starts.

"What things?"

"Daddy, for starters," she says, scowling slightly at the mention of him. "Jesse as well. Kurt. My tour. My _life_."

"And you managed to do that all in one day?"

Rachel smiles sadly. "Just the important things," she says. "Dad knows everything. Daddy told him."

Quinn blinks. "Oh?"

"I was surprised, too," she says, wringing her fingers together. "I don't know what happens now, but I think it's best if we have everything out in the open, right?"

"Right."

Rachel swallows. "Jesse and I are officially done," she says. "He was under the impression that the lack of baby would make me change my mind, but he was mistaken. The lack of baby has merely solidified my desire to have one, some day, in the future, and that's never going to happen with _him_."

Quinn just listens in silence, realising that these are all things that Rachel _needs_ to say.

"I don't want him," she says. "I - I don't want that life being with him would give me. I was wrong to go looking for fulfilment that way. I don't need some leading man. I don't _need_ anyone. But I - " she stops, licking her lips. "But I _want_."

Quinn recognises this moment is important, and she forces herself to maintain eye contact.

"I told Kurt to postpone my tour," she says. "For the summer. I - I don't have to be back in New York until I have to start preparations and, save for a few appearances here and there, I don't have to leave Lima at all, and I don't _want_ to. I don't want to go anywhere, Quinn. I want to be right here. With you. With Mia. With our family. I want _this_. I've _always_ wanted this, but I forced myself not to."

Quinn isn't even sure she's breathing.

"You asked me what I want, and now I know," Rachel says. "I just need to know if, well, _you'll_ have _me_. Because you can, and I promise to do everything in my power to make this work the way I should have ten years ago."

Quinn just stares at her, suddenly unsure what to say.

Rachel tells herself she's going to wait as long as Quinn needs, but she grows antsy far too quickly, and her heart is thundering in her chest.

In the end, Quinn moves first, her feet moving her forward, closer to Rachel. "You talk a lot," she says.

Rachel blinks in surprise. "I had a lot to say."

"It seems you did."

"What are you thinking?"

"This isn't some drastic, hasty decision?"

Rachel shakes her head. "No, it's not," she says, and she sounds so _sure_. "There's nothing drastic about it. It just _is_."

"You're staying?"

"If you'll have me."

"You want to be here, with me and Mia and our crazy family?"

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

"You really think we could make you happy?"

"You already do."

"You're _sure_ this is what you want?"

"I'm sure," she confirms. "What do _you_ want?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Quinn slides her hands around Rachel's back and draws the smaller woman into a loose embrace. " _This_ ," she says softly, almost as if it's a secret. She just looks at Rachel for the longest time, the great big world falling to nothing.

"We can have this," Rachel whispers.

"We can," Quinn agrees, her eyes wide with wonder. "I have you here, and Mia, and my family, and I need nothing more and nothing less."

This time, when they kiss, it's less painful.

Still gentle and slow, but carrying meaning enough to make them both cry.

It's a sealing of sort, their collective fate being decided.

There's no going back now.

Somehow, this time, they're going to make it work.

Well, they're going to try.

They deserve that much, at least.

It'll be difficult, because they lead separate lives, and there's just _so much_ to work through.

But, they're both going to work for it, this time, because they both _want_ it.

Rachel wants _this_.

Quinn. Mia. Family.

This family.

A _new_ family.

She wants all of it.

When they pull apart, Quinn's smile is lazy and _happy_ , and the sight of it reaches deep into Rachel's soul. "Well, maybe I could use more of that," Quinn confesses, trying to ease the heaviness of this moment.

"Funny that," Rachel chimes; "I think I might just be the person to help with that."

"Yeah?"

"I love you, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn lets out a shaky breath, her eyes widening in slight disbelief. "Yeah?"

"So much."

Quinn kisses her again, her eyes closing and her heart singing. "I don't know what happens now."

"I don't even care."

Quinn giggles. Like, properly _giggles_. "We'll figure it out," she says.

"Because now we can."

"Because we are - we are more - "

Rachel kisses her once more, holding onto this moment for as long as she possibly can, before they're going to have to face the world. "Together."

* * *

 _Fin_

* * *

 **AN** : Believe it or not, when I initially started this story, it was supposed to be mostly fluff, with a side of angst, maybe. Obviously, that didn't happen, but I still hope you enjoyed it. It's kind of a holiday fic, so I want to wish you all a safe and joyful holiday season. Thank you for reading!


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